The Siren Depths

Chapter Nine

Moon had fallen asleep immediately, lulled by Stone’s reassuring presence. But deep into the night, he woke suddenly with the conviction that someone was in the passage outside the bower.

It might be one of the Arbora checking on them, but he remembered the sense that someone had been standing outside the guest chamber last night. He sat up on one elbow, and saw Stone lying on his back, eyes open.

Stone caught Moon’s gaze and pointed up and to the side. Moon nodded, remembering the layout of the hall. That faint sense of presence moved up through the passage to the deserted bowers, toward the area that had shown signs of recent occupation.

Moon eased away from Stone, motioning for him to stay where he was. Stone gave him a withering look in return. Ignoring that, Moon got to his feet and moved silently to the door of the bower.

The passage was empty, the white glow of the spell lights reflecting off the curves and angles in the carving, the old claw marks scarring the polished wood. Moon climbed quietly upward toward the other bowers. Faint movement sounded from one, and he stepped into the doorway. There was a figure beside the cold hearth, just leaning down to pick up the book that lay on a cushion.

Moon said, “Did you forget to take it with you?”

The figure whipped around so fast it sat down hard, the book in its lap. It looked like a young warrior or consort, at least at first sight. His hair was dark and his eyes were green, and he had sharp features and a lean, rangy build. He was wearing a dark blue shirt and pants with a darker sash around his waist. The material was clingy enough to reveal a certain knobbiness at his elbows, wrists, and knees, suggesting that he had only recently matured.

But his skin was pale, too pale, without even a hint of bronze or copper tint. When Raksura went to gray and then white with age, they lost the color in their hair as well as their skin. Only the groundling forms of Fell rulers had skin this pale when young.

So this was the crossbreed consort. Besides the skin color, Moon could see no trace of Fell.

He stared at Moon for a long moment, his tense body slowly relaxing as Moon made no move to attack. He cleared his throat and touched the book’s cover. “I was reading it when they said we had to move.” He hesitated. “You’re Moon. I’m Shade. We have the same father.”

“I know.” Their consort father would have been forced to mate with a Fell progenitor to produce Shade, but there didn’t seem to be any point in mentioning that. Moon stepped into the bower and paced along the wall. The hollowed-out niches held trinkets, mostly bits of jewelry, cups for a tea set, broken wooden pens, a couple of folded books. There was also a battered cloth doll, relic of Shade’s not so long ago fledglinghood. It all seemed so ordinary, not the place Moon would ever have imagined a half-Fell consort to live.

Atop a wicker chest was a sheet of paper, and Moon recognized the writing as Raksuran, though he couldn’t read any of it. But there were small scribbled drawings of plants, warriors in flight, and Arbora working in gardens. Drawing tools lay nearby, charcoal pieces and pens carved from reeds. He wondered if Shade had done the drawings himself. Moon had never been able to make a recognizable image on paper, even when he had tried to imitate groundlings’ work, and had never seen any of the Aeriat at Indigo Cloud do it. He had thought it was a skill reserved for Arbora. “Can you hear them?”

Shade didn’t need to ask who he meant. “No.” Still sitting on the fur, he had twisted around to watch Moon circle the room. “Is it true you were alone all this time?”

“Yes.” Moon stepped away from the drawings. “What are you going to do?”

“What? Oh, since no queen will take me, and I can’t leave the court?” Shade shrugged, long fingers fiddling with the book’s leather cover again. “I don’t want to leave; everyone I know is here.”

“You don’t want a queen?”

Shade’s young face was serious. “Even if there was one who wanted me, I shouldn’t breed.” It sounded as if he had given it a good deal of thought. “The clutch might be all right, like me and the others, but they might not.”

It was…not an unrealistic view of the situation. At least no one had lied to Shade about who and what he was, and what he was likely to expect. High in the wall there was an opening to the central well, and Moon stopped beneath it, listening. It must be in a fold of the trunk that faced away from the reservoir, so the rush of falling water was more distant, and the clicks and calls of the insects sleeping in the vines were audible. He wasn’t sure what he wanted from this conversation. Maybe nothing.

Then Shade said suddenly, “Feather said you look just like our father.”

Moon went still. For an instant he felt his connection to this court, to Malachite, and it tugged on him like a leash.

He turned to face Shade, who was lost in thought, turning the pages of the book. Shade said, “I never saw him, because he died, but…The other consorts who live here with me, they’re descended from Malachite’s sister queen who died, and they look a little like him too. So do our cross-clutchmates, in Onyx’s bloodline. But they’re soft, and you’ve got hard edges. It makes you look older and Feather said you look just like him. I think that’s why Malachite was afraid to see you.” Shade frowned thoughtfully, apparently oblivious to the effect this was having on Moon. “I guess that must have hurt you, but I don’t think she realized what it was going to be like, seeing the image of him again. Feather said Malachite’s been so filled with rage that she’s barely felt anything else in forty turns. You coming back means she has to let some of that go. That’s hard for her.”

Moon turned away. He didn’t want to believe it; he didn’t want to give Malachite that much credit. But Dart had said the queen started to enter the room, saw Moon, and left.

He heard a rustle as Shade moved uneasily, maybe finally sensing that this was a difficult subject. Shade said, “What was it like, traveling out in the world?”

Root had asked Moon that once, what felt like a lifetime ago. Chime had countered the question with “what is the wind like?” but Moon wanted to give Shade a better answer. But summing up the totality of the wind would have been easier. He said, “It was hard, but…it wasn’t all bad. I saw a lot of different places, and people.”

“But there weren’t any other Raksura?”

“I didn’t know where to look for them.” He turned back, and Shade’s baffled expression almost made him smile. “The Three Worlds is a big place.”

Shade seemed as if he was having trouble imagining it. “Did you live with a groundling court?”

“Sometimes. But when they realized what I was, I always had to leave.” Shade’s confusion deepened, and Moon explained gently, “In the east, where I was living, the groundlings are afraid of Raksura. They think we’re Fell.”

“But we—you don’t look like a Fell!”

“To them we all do.”

Shade’s brow furrowed as he turned that over. “I see. But…you must have been lonely.”

It was a surprise that Shade saw that so readily. He had always been surrounded by his court, protected by a powerful reigning queen who had fought her way through a Fell flight and killed a progenitor to retrieve the last of her dead consort’s offspring. But maybe he was aware of what could have happened to him.

Still considering it, Shade said, “The only place I’d like to see outside the court is Aventera. The warriors described it to me, and it sounds very strange. But I’m not sure I want to meet groundlings, if they’re going to be afraid of me.”

“Aventera.” Moon hadn’t heard the name before, but he could make a guess. “Is that the groundling city that Celadon went to?”

“Yes.” Shade yawned, and got to his feet, the book tucked under his arm. “I’d better go back now.” He hesitated, shy and uncertain and very like an ordinary young Raksura. “Can we talk again?”

Moon hesitated, but he was surprised to realize what his answer was. “Yes.”

Shade nodded and disappeared down the passage.

Moon waited until Shade’s steps had faded, then he went down to his own bower. Stone hadn’t moved, and Moon lay down beside him. The fur still held the shape of his body, though he had been gone long enough for it to lose the warmth. Stone didn’t comment, and after a moment, Moon said, “Did you hear all that?”

“Yes.” He was silent for so long, Moon thought that was all he was going to say. Then Stone added, “Not sure I would have done it, in their place. It would have just made it that much worse, if they’d turned wrong when they got older.”

It was a strange thing that Opal Night had done, that Malachite had done, raising these changeling children instead of killing them. Moon wondered how many courts would have done it. He thought most Raksura would have considered it mercy to kill them. Moon might have thought it himself, if he hadn’t met Lithe and Shade.

Hard as it would have been to kill something that must have looked very like a baby Raksura, it would have been much, much worse to watch it turn from a child into a monster. But Opal Night had taken the risk. Maybe Malachite saw it as another path to victory over the Fell. Raising the crossbreeds as Raksura, to show that Raksuran blood was stronger. “So you think they were right?”

Stone rolled over, clearly putting an end to the conversation. “I think they were lucky.”

Moon woke at dawn, when Stone was stirring. Russet and two other Arbora must have been listening for them to move, because they brought a kettle and pot for tea immediately. Russet lingered as if she wanted to say something, but left when Stone glared narrowly at her.

Moon picked up the pressed cake of tea and the wooden tool used to scrape it off into the pot. “What was that about?”

“I don’t like interfering Arbora.” Stone took the cake and the scraper away, and moved the pot out of Moon’s reach. He was particular about tea.

“The Arbora at Indigo Cloud aren’t interfering?” Because that hadn’t been Moon’s experience.

Stone sniffed at the tea dubiously, then set it aside and got his own out of his pack. “It’s different when they’re related to you.”

Moon waited until Stone had the first cup down before he said, “I want to stay. I want to find out what Opal Night is going to do about the Fell and the groundling city.”

Stone hissed in pure irritation and deliberately set the cup down. It was a delicate blue ceramic, with bands of silver gray and dark green, in a complex pattern that would probably make the Arbora at Indigo Cloud sick with envy. “Are you going to say that to Jade when she gets here?”

Until last night, Jade’s arrival had felt like something from a Hassi creation myth: much longed for but expected to be apocryphal. Even knowing that she would be here soon, Moon was still having trouble thinking logically about it. He didn’t answer, and Stone continued, “And if I can’t get you out of here, do you think your crazy mother who had you dragged all the way across the Reaches is just going to hand you over when Jade asks?”

When Stone said “mother,” Moon still thought first of Sorrow and not Malachite, and it took him a moment to answer. “She doesn’t have any reason to keep me here.”

A voice from behind him said, “You don’t want to know us at all, do you?”

Moon twitched around. Celadon stood in the doorway. Distracted, he hadn’t heard her arrival, but he felt fairly certain it hadn’t gone unnoticed by Stone. Irritated at being caught unawares, at her for existing, at Stone, he told her, “No, I don’t. Why should I?”

Celadon stepped forward, spines flicking in agitation. “We’re your bloodline. We’re responsible for you—”

Moon shoved to his feet. “You left me to die in a forest. That’s what you’re responsible for.”

“That wasn’t me, I didn’t leave you! I was a fledgling myself, whether you remember or not.” Celadon’s spines snapped up, trembling with fury. “I lost you, I lost our clutchmates, the others in the nurseries, I lost our father, I lost Twist and Yarrow, the teachers who took care of us, almost everyone I knew.” She turned away, and her tail lashed angrily. “You are the only thing I’ve ever gotten back from that time.”

“It’s too late!” Moon snarled at her. He knew he wasn’t being fair, but the mix of anger and pain wouldn’t let him admit it. “I can’t be him again, I’m something else.”

“I don’t expect you to!” She rounded on him, baring her fangs. They glared at each other, then Celadon took a deep breath, forcing her spines down, deliberately calming herself. “I know you’re different now.” Reluctantly, she added, “Do you hate us so much?”

“I don’t hate you,” Moon said, though he wasn’t sure if that was true. “I just don’t know why you want me here.”

She hissed, exasperated. “Because you’re part of us.”

“It’s too late for that, too.”

She watched him, her spines going completely flat as the last of the anger left her expression. Finally, she said, “Malachite wants to see you.” She tilted her head toward Stone. “And the line-grandfather.”

Stone set his teacup down. “Good.”

Celadon led them to the queens’ hall, where they had argued last night. Moon was assuming this was the queens’ hall for Malachite’s bloodline, and that Onyx and her daughters had a separate set as far away as possible.

In the day, shafts of light fell down from the well high overhead to light the carvings winding up the wall. Malachite waited for them, sitting to one side of the bowl hearth with several Arbora, including Lithe and Russet, behind her. Also present was Malachite’s warrior Rise, a few other older female warriors and, surprisingly, Shade. Shade was the only one who smiled when Moon walked in.

Moon knew enough by now to recognize the formal setup: the way the Arbora and warriors were dressed in the silky flowing fabrics of their good clothes, the tea set beside the hearth that no one would probably use, the arrangement of the seating mats and cushions. He just had no idea what it meant in context with his situation. You could have asked Celadon, he told himself, if you hadn’t been busy yelling at her.

Celadon moved past to sit near Malachite, and Moon and Stone took seats opposite the queens. Apparently, there was no older male consort who belonged to Malachite. Which meant Malachite hadn’t taken another after Moon’s father had been killed.

Malachite broke the silence first, saying to Stone, “Do you still plan to tell other courts about our crossbreed children?”

Shade twitched, startled, and looked anxiously from Malachite to Stone.

Unperturbed, Stone said, “Was I supposed to be reconsidering it?”

Malachite’s voice stayed level. “Answer me.”

Stone countered, “Are you still planning to steal Indigo Cloud’s consort?”

“You and I both know you had no right to take him.”

We could be here all day, Moon thought. If Malachite was one tenth as stubborn as Stone, this could go on for the rest of the turn. He said, “Isn’t it my fault, for agreeing to be taken?”

Everyone stared at him, as if they had all expected him to just sit silently. Stone hissed, “Shut up.”

“No, you shut up.” The swipe Stone took at his head was half-hearted and Moon ducked it easily. He kept his gaze on Malachite. “Isn’t it my fault?”

Malachite didn’t answer, though her tail made a slow lash. Celadon’s spines rippled in annoyance and she said, “You didn’t know any better. You—”

Malachite said, “Quiet.”

Celadon subsided reluctantly. Moon said, “I didn’t know any better. And all Indigo Cloud knew was what I told them. So if you don’t hold me responsible, then you can’t hold them responsible. They had every right to take me.”

There was a moment’s silence. Malachite’s tail did that slow lash again, that Moon couldn’t interpret. It occurred to him at that point that they could very well blame him for accepting Jade without his birthcourt’s permission. He should have bothered to find out what the punishment was for that, but at worst it would be exile from Opal Night, which wouldn’t leave him any worse off than he had been before. Though it would be somewhat ironic.

Then one of the older Arbora said, admiringly, “He argues like a mentor.”

Stone said, “He argues, period. Are you sure you want him?”

“Yes,” Malachite said, simply.

“Why?” Moon made his voice hard. He knew he was susceptible to her; he didn’t want to lose his resolve. “Do you have a court you want to sell me off to? You think another queen would ever want me, a feral solitary who’s already taken?”

Malachite stood, stalked forward three deliberate steps until she stood over him. Moon just looked up at her, refusing to let himself flinch away. His skin itched with the urge to shift. In a voice rough with fury, she said, “I know nothing of this queen or this court. Why did she take you if she thought you were a solitary?”

Stone half uncoiled from the floor, not quite pushing in front of Moon but making it clear he was there. “She took him because she likes him. I thought she would; that’s why I brought him to her.”

Moon said, “You can ask her when she gets here.”

Malachite stared down at him, her eyes as hard and opaque as dark glass. Then she stepped back. “I will.”

There were relieved hisses from the other end of the room.

As she moved away, Stone eased back down into a sitting position and gave Moon a look that was irritation mixed with relief.

Moon took a deep breath without making it obvious, feeling the skin of his back ripple, settling the spines he wasn’t wearing at the moment. He seemed to have won the point, or at least part of it. Time to push a little further. “Are you going to warn the groundlings about the Fell?”

Malachite’s spines shivered, but she didn’t answer immediately. She settled herself back into her place, and tilted her head to Celadon. Celadon said to Moon, “I’ve tried. I’ve visited them twice, but they’ve never heard of Fell before, not even as stories.”

They were very far west, but Moon found that strange. Even the peoples of the inland freshwater sea had heard of the Fell. Or at least Ardan had heard of them. But he had been a scholar as well as a collector; maybe the Fell weren’t common knowledge in this part of the west. He said, “If they don’t know anything about the Fell, it makes them even more vulnerable.”

There was a restrained stir from the Arbora, whether of agreement or censure, Moon couldn’t tell. Celadon said, “I can try again. But if they won’t listen to me, there isn’t much I can do.”

“Let me try.” Moon had no idea if they would let him leave the colony, but the chance of having something positive to do was too good to resist. “I’ve seen groundling cities destroyed by the Fell. I can tell them how it will happen, what the Fell will do to them, what to watch out for.”

The silence stretched. The Arbora and warriors stared at Moon again, shocked and a little incredulous. He realized they hadn’t heard this part of the story before. Maybe they wouldn’t believe him.

Stone said, reluctantly, “He’s right. He’s seen a lot of Fell. To put it mildly.”

Unexpectedly, Celadon turned to Malachite. “I would agree to take him with me to the city to try again. Even though the groundlings are stubborn, it’s cruel not to try to convince them of the danger. And if the Fell take the city, it will only give them a secure place to attack us and the rest of the Reaches.” She added, “But if we do this, we should go today. Before the Fell get any closer.”

Russet leaned forward, her expression worried. “With the Fell nearby, isn’t it too dangerous to let a consort leave the colony?”

Moon didn’t laugh, didn’t make a comment about all his turns outside a colony. He thought Stone’s sardonic expression said it all. Celadon flicked her spines uncomfortably, as if all too aware of the irony, and said, “I think we all realize that Moon is different.”

Malachite didn’t respond to Russet. She regarded Stone thoughtfully. “I assume the line-grandfather would accompany you.”

Stone said, “I would.”

“How do I know he won’t simply take you back to Indigo Cloud?”

“He knows I wouldn’t go.” Moon turned to look Stone in the eye. “And if he forced me to go, he knows I’d just come back.”

Stone’s expression promised another slap to the head in Moon’s near future. He said, “‘He’ knows the queens involved would rather fight this out than be reasonable.”

Malachite showed the tips of her fangs. “You mean give in to your demands.”

“Exactly.” Stone wasn’t intimidated. “The other courts are going to find out about your crossbreeds eventually.” Stone held her gaze for a long moment. “You’ll need an ally. Indigo Cloud could be one.”

Even through Malachite’s opaque expression, Moon could tell she wasn’t moved by that possibility.

Then Shade eased up to kneel beside her. “Can I go to the groundling city too? If my half-clutch-brother and the line-grandfather are going—”

Moon wasn’t sure what surprised him more, that Shade had dared to ask or Malachite’s reaction. Malachite ruffled Shade’s hair with an air of exasperated affection. “No, you may not go. Not until you are as old and wise as your half-clutch-brother.”

Moon stared, taken aback. He wanted to see the description as ridicule, but no one else was reacting to it that way.

Malachite’s gaze crossed his but she didn’t give any sign that she had noticed his reaction. Celadon pushed to her feet and said, “I’ll gather my warriors, if the consorts are ready to leave.”

As the warriors and Arbora started to stand, Moon got up and walked out to the passage at a reasonable pace, trying to make certain nothing he did could be interpreted as fleeing. It’s a trick, he thought. She just wants you to think that…that she wants you back, like she and Celadon said. He didn’t want to believe that. It was much easier to hate them for leaving him behind all those turns ago. Even if you know it’s completely irrational.

Stone stopped beside him and frowned. “What’s wrong with you now?”

“Nothing.” Moon gritted his teeth.

Stone might have persisted, but Celadon reached them and said, “You weren’t surprised to see Shade, and you didn’t ask who he was.”

She was trying to sound neutral, but Moon caught the hint of worry in her tone. “I talked to him last night.”

“Oh.” Celadon frowned, now clearly worried. “Did he come to see you?”

“No. He came for something he left behind, and I heard him.” She still looked uneasy, and he added, “I didn’t try to kill him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Now she was just annoyed. “That’s not what I was wondering. It’s just that he’s sheltered. He doesn’t understand how other courts would react to him—”

“He can’t help what he is,” Moon said. Shade was sheltered, but he wasn’t a fool, either. “And I think he does understand.”

He thought she would dismiss that immediately, but after a moment’s thought, she shook her head in regret. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just want to think he doesn’t realize.”

Behind them, Stone sighed in irritation. “So are we going to this groundling city or not?”

They flew to the west, Moon, Stone, Celadon, and her escort of five warriors.

It was a bright sunny morning, the sky a clear blue only lightly dotted with clouds. Below them, the terrain grew more rocky, and the mountain-trees more isolated, until they stood out as individual islands, their giant canopies spread like clouds. Each tree was surrounded by outcrops and deep narrow gorges, overflowing with heavy green vegetation.

Finally there was only one mountain-tree in sight, a squat one with a canopy shaped more like a bush; Celadon guided them down toward it. They landed in the roots, on a rocky outcrop where a pool had formed to catch the water runoff from the tree’s knothole. Celadon told Moon, “This is the last good water before the plateau, and there’s usually game in this area. Are you hungry?”

“Not yet.” Moon folded his wings and stretched. The wind, with no mountain-trees to break it, was strong and gusty. “I can wait, if the warriors can.” He suspected she had broken their journey here for his benefit, to make certain the delicate consort wasn’t struggling to keep up with her warriors’ pace. He actually felt better than he had since arriving at Opal Night, a state which was probably directly proportional to the speed they were flying away from it, but he wasn’t going to mention that.

As the warriors went to drink from the pool, Celadon said, “Opal Night is not a bad court to live in, you know. Even Onyx’s bloodlines get along with each other.”

Or maybe this was why she had wanted to stop, for a chance to talk him into submitting to Malachite’s will. Moon snorted, deliberately provoking. “Isn’t that unusual for Raksura?”

Celadon refused to be provoked. “As you might imagine, Malachite doesn’t tolerate troublesome behavior. And Onyx may take every opportunity to test Malachite, but she doesn’t let her daughter queens squabble either. That’s the only thing they agree on.”

Moon wondered what life as a fledgling in Opal Night had been like. He thought of the sleek confidence of the young consorts of Onyx’s line, Celadon’s even temper, and Shade’s sunny disposition, and felt a surge of jealousy. Still trying to get an angry reaction out of her, he said, “You didn’t mind being raised with crossbreed Fell?”

She lifted her brows. “You think we weren’t? We were all in the nurseries together from the beginning. Most of us were too young to remember what had happened to the court, or much of the trip to the Reaches, but it was never hidden from us.” Her gaze went to the plains ahead, where the morning light was turning the tall grass into gold waves. “But still…The Arbora who survived the attack on the eastern colony talk about how happy the court was there. We’re not sad now, but it hangs over us, the gaps in our bloodlines.”

Moon had heard enough. He didn’t want to think about being part of that close-knit group of survivors, trusting each other and trusting Malachite, returning to the safety and security of Opal Night’s home colony. He started for the pool.

Celadon squinted upward. Stone hadn’t landed, and was circling overhead. “Is something wrong with the line-grandfather?”

“He doesn’t like to stop.” Moon hopped further down the outcrop, to a spot where the water overflowed the pool and tumbled down the slope into the gorge. He stepped onto a ledge where he could catch the spray, and cupped his hands for a drink. The water tasted of rock and moss.

When he stepped away from the fall, he immediately scented something musky and animal; against the mountain-tree’s sweet scent, it stood out like a sharp punch to the nose. An instant later he spotted it: a dark gray bipedal shape, armor-plated like a Tath but with a wide triangular head. It crept up a ridge of the outcrop, headed toward the warriors who were crouched at the edge of the pool, about forty paces above. They were facing away and hadn’t noticed it yet.

Moon couldn’t tell what its intent was; it couldn’t mean to take on all of them. But it was better to drive it off before it got any closer. He crouched and leapt, landed on the rock above it, flared his spines and wings. It reared back, startled, but bared its impressive rows of teeth threateningly. Moon showed it his larger and sharper set of fangs.

It growled to save face, and retreated rapidly back down the slope. It disappeared into the jungle filling the gorge, ferny branches shaking to betray its path. Moon relaxed and glanced around to see Celadon sat on the ledge next to the fall, watching him. The warriors had noticed the altercation, and all of them had flattened spines from embarrassment.

Celadon said, “They live in the bottom of the gorges around the trees in this area.” She tilted her head toward the warriors. “Just because they haven’t bothered us before is no reason not to be careful. A consort won’t always be around to save you.”

Moon wasn’t sure if she was mocking him or not. It felt like she was mocking him. Remembering Tempest’s reaction to his attempt to help her warrior on the way to Opal Night, he thought, Next time I’ll just let them be eaten. He climbed around the outcrop, then jumped off and flapped until he caught the wind.

Rising up to Stone’s level, he circled with him until Celadon and the warriors joined them again.

By late afternoon, the ground had started to rise toward the mountainous plateau that had been dominating the horizon for some time. As they drew closer, the shapes above it gradually resolved into the outlines of flying islands, rocky uneven clumps dripping with greenery. It was odd to see so many in one spot. The islands tended to move with the wind, or perhaps they followed the same lines of force that the flying boats used to travel; Moon wondered if the plateau somehow attracted them.

Closer, he realized the lines of the plateau weren’t entirely natural. A great figure had been carved out of the side, into the shape of the body of a groundling seated on a throne. The statue was huge, taking up half the side of the plateau. The proportions were distorted, making the body wider than it was tall, and a large section of the head was missing, but it was still an impressive sight.

And so was the city built into it. The statue’s chest and stomach, and the cliff faces to either side, had been carved out with balconies, windows, stairways, open galleries. The rock had been shaped into columns, pediments, as if these were the façades of buildings standing along a street instead of hanging out over empty air.

The plateau’s broad slopes were riddled with steep gorges, with the gleaming silver bands of streams winding along the bottoms, lined by lush foliage. The streams all fed into a large lake covering the statue’s feet. Along its banks, regular rows of greenery and trees revealed planting beds and orchards. Moon didn’t see any roads, just the occasional meandering pathway, and at first he didn’t see how the inhabitants approached their city.

Then he caught movement in the air. Below and to the right, slowly fighting the wind along the top of the plateau, was a flying boat. But it was so different from the others Moon had seen that it didn’t deserve the name. A huge bronze-colored air-filled bladder sat atop the blocky wooden shape of the boat, with the rigging curving up and around it. Aborted wings and fins made of taut fabric stuck out from various spots, attached to the ropes of the rigging so they could be moved for steering. Moon had never seen a more inefficient way of traveling through the air.

Banking close to it, Moon realized that the bladder seemed to be supporting the boat, not the other way around. That’s crazy. The other flying boats stayed aloft by using a fragment of the rock found at the heart of flying islands, that allowed them to float along the waves of invisible force that crossed the Three Worlds. This seemed like a much more difficult method.

The wooden cabin beneath the bladder was a complicated arrangement, with rounded bulges and open balconies, though no groundlings were visible. It had oval windows set with clear crystal, and he thought he could see movement within, but between the sun’s reflection and the distortion of the crystal, he couldn’t make out any detail.

Celadon dropped back even with him, calling out, “Don’t get too close! It worries them.”

He could imagine, as fragile as the thing looked. Moon followed her as she tipped her wings and slid away across the wind toward the statue-city.

Circling above the lake with Celadon, Stone, and the others, he thought it must be a very difficult place for ground predators or other groundling tribes to attack. Underground predators couldn’t tunnel through rock and usually avoided water. But it would be easy prey for the Fell.

Several more of the flying bladder-boats were docked atop the large flat ledge that formed the statue’s lap. They weren’t the only flying craft; contraptions with much smaller air bladders and platforms barely big enough for a groundling to stand in made their way up and down the cliff face, some secured by ropes to balconies or pillars.

Moon followed Celadon as she banked down and they headed for the bladder-boat ledge.

Celadon dropped down to light on the open space in the center. Moon followed her, and furled his wings to leave room for the others. The warriors held off, waiting for Stone to land and shift before they touched down. Moon shifted to groundling too. The cool breeze pulled at his hair and clothes and made a whispering sound as it streamed across the bladders of the tethered boats. The ledge was paved with green marble, facing three big archways cut into the rock of the statue’s chest, each bracketed with tall columns carved into spirals.

Inside the archways, several groundlings gathered, presumably to greet the visitors. Moon had wondered if they were climbers or diggers, and that was why they had built their city into the statue and the cliff. But the people peering out at them from between the columns didn’t have the claws or the broad strong shoulders of natural tunnel-builders. They were tall and willowy, with very pale skin tinged with gray, at least on their faces and hands; the rest of their bodies were bundled up in long brocaded coats. They had elongated eyes, high foreheads with prominent brows, and dark or silver-gray hair arranged in elaborate loops.

A woman came forward hurriedly, dressed in a silky coat in brilliant greens and blues. Stepping out from between the columns, she said, “Celadon, please come in out of the wind.” She was speaking Kedaic, one of the common trade languages in the Three Worlds.

“Thank you, Ennia.” Celadon glanced back to make sure the warriors had all shifted to groundling and followed the woman past the columns.

The archways opened into a high pillared hall, a market or gathering area. A painted tile fountain in the center shot water up toward the domed ceiling. Merchant stalls were scattered around the room, and Moon spotted bolts of fabric, colored glassware, and all sorts of metal trinkets. There were men and women everywhere, but they seemed to be more interested in talking in groups and staring at the Raksura than looking at the goods on display. Their attention was drawn first by Celadon’s brightly colored scales, and then by the unfamiliar appearance of Moon and Stone and the warriors. They seemed curious but not afraid.

Moon was fairly sure the Fell would change that.

Ennia said to Celadon, “One of our trading aircraft has just come back from a voyage to the far west. The cargo is being dispersed and sold, and those that speculated on its success have come to hear news of it.”

Celadon pretended interest as if that made sense to her, though Moon doubted it did. Raksura had little concept of the currencies that larger groundling settlements used for their trade.

Ennia led them to the far end of the big hall, then up a wide staircase to a broad gallery. Two groundlings waiting there slid open the heavy door at the top of the steps.

It led into a large sitting room. A bronze lamp with multiple rings hung overhead, the light coming from little glowing glass globes suspended from the metal loops. Benches padded with dark blue cushions and delicate bronze slope-backed chairs were grouped in a loose circle on a round thickly-woven carpet. Moon scented musky perfumes and the wood smoke overlaying rock and water and metal.

A small group of groundlings trailed in with them, and two slid the heavy bronze doors closed, shutting off the stairway and the noise from the market. Moon tried not to find that threatening, reminding himself that Celadon had been here before. But a lifetime of concealing what he was had made him extremely wary of shifting in front of groundlings, especially when they were staring at him like these people were.

Speaking Kedaic like their hosts, Celadon said, “Ennia, this is my…” She had to fumble for the right word. “My brother, Moon. And Stone, who is an important elder of the court of Indigo Cloud.”

Ennia smiled and sank gracefully into a chair. “My greetings to you. Please, sit. You did not tell us you had a brother, Celadon.”

Though for Raksura that was an incredibly inane statement, Celadon managed not to react. She said, “He has just come to visit us,” and took a seat on a bench across from Ennia. Celadon caught Moon’s eye and nodded for him to sit next to her. Raksuran etiquette dictated consorts sit behind queens at a formal visit, but he thought Celadon was wise to follow the groundlings’ customs. It would make them seem less different, and Moon felt they could use all the help they could get.

Three of the other groundlings, two men and an older woman, took seats as well though, unlike Ennia, they kept well back from the Raksura. Under the coats they all wore heavy garments, pants, long shirts and vests, all in rich colors, in fabrics that were either warm knits or heavy brocades. There didn’t seem to be much extra fat or meat on their skinny bodies, and they must need the heavy clothes against the wind and the constant cool of the rock walls. With this closer view of them, Moon realized it wasn’t just their eyes that were elongated; their heads, the long bones of arms and legs, their hands were all attenuated, even compared to Aeriat Raksura.

The warriors settled on a bench and the floor a few paces behind Moon and Celadon, jostling each other a little but not speaking. Stone ignored the whole group, wandering the perimeter of the room, apparently looking at the painted panels covering the walls, much to the consternation of the groundlings.

Moon felt the back of his neck prickle uneasily. Stone generally liked groundlings and sought them out on his travels for news and company. He had always been polite to every one Moon had ever seen him interact with. He tasted the air, trying not to be obvious about it.

Ennia watched Stone, her dark brows drawn together, then gave Celadon a bemused smile. Celadon was too self-possessed to react or to attempt to explain or excuse eccentric line-grandfathers to Ennia. After a moment, Ennia gave in and said, “I’ve sent someone for my father, so he should be here shortly. He’s always very pleased by your visits.”

“I am anxious to speak with him again,” Celadon said easily. “And I wanted my brother to see your city, and to meet and speak with you.”

“I see.” Ennia regarded Moon indulgently. “I’m sure our city must seem very strange to you. From my conversations with your sister, I know that you live very differently from we ‘groundlings.’”

“I’ve lived in groundling cities before,” Moon said. There was a faint startled stir from the warriors, who were probably not used to young consorts who spoke up in company, let alone groundling company. But the warriors would just have to get used to it; Moon was trying not to be impatient, but when Celadon finally broached the topic of the Fell, he wanted Ennia to realize he knew what he was talking about.

“Oh.” Ennia lifted her brows, considerably taken aback. “I had the impression your people were…reclusive.”

Moon wondered what word she had originally chosen and discarded. Her friends, family, servants, whatever they were, didn’t have as much control over their composure, and they were uneasily watching the Raksura like people trapped in an enclosed space with possibly vicious animals. Stone, who had continued his examination of the artwork and was behind them now at the far side of the room, seemed to make them particularly nervous. Moon said, “I’ve traveled more widely than most Raksura.”

Ennia leaned forward, interested. “You speak Kedashi very well.”

“It’s called Kedaic in the east.” Moon suspected Kedashi was a local variation. It would explain Ennia’s somewhat odd pronunciations. He thought about mentioning that in Kish, the territory where the language was most spoken, it was considered extremely rude to comment on anyone’s proficiency of speech, but he didn’t want to put them at odds, no matter how condescending Ennia was.

“Really?” Ennia frowned in consternation, clearly making some mental adjustment. “I had heard that but—”

The door at the back of the room opened and a groundling man swept through, three others trailing in his wake like suckerfish after a predator. He was shorter than Ennia, but a shock of short gray hair standing nearly straight up made him look taller. He wore a dark green brocaded coat trimmed with dyed leather and fur. The other groundlings in the room popped to their feet, and even Ennia stood to greet him, going over to take his hands. “Father, you see we have guests. I’m so glad you could spare the time to greet them.”

“Our air sentries reported their arrival,” the man replied. “Indeed, this time they were quite hard to miss.”

Moon bit his lip. He usually tried not to judge hastily based on behavior, since all tribes whether groundling, sealing, or skyling were different, but he could tell he was going to have a hard time liking these people. He still didn’t think they should be eaten by Fell, though.

Celadon took the opportunity to say quietly in Raksuran, “He is Havram, their leader. They call him an ‘arbiter’ in the trade language but I suspect that’s a mistranslation.”

Havram took Ennia’s arm, leading her back to her chair as if she might not know the way. She said, “Look, Father, Celadon has brought her brother Moon to see us. And—” She looked for Stone, who ambled across the room to drop down into one of the chairs, much to the nervous consternation of the groundlings he brushed past. “—Stone, who is an important official at another court.”

“Well, and what do you think of our city?” Havram said. He sat beside Ennia, evidently a sign for the rest of the groundlings to sit. Not giving Moon a chance to answer, he added, “You must be very impressed with our flying craft.”

Stone snorted quietly. Moon said, “They seem a little impractical, compared to others.”

It was Havram’s turn to lift his gray brows in mild astonishment. “Others?” He gave the impression of being too polite to show outright skepticism.

Ennia interposed, “Moon has traveled widely.” From her tone, he couldn’t tell if she believed him or not.

Havram said, “I see.” Small talk evidently dispensed with, he leaned back, watching them with a sharp gaze. “The people who saw your group fly in noted that there was something else with you. Some sort of large creature?”

Moon looked at Celadon, who twitched a spine in irritation. She said, “As some members of our species grow older, they grow larger.” She inclined her head toward Stone. “Stone is very old.”

Ennia blinked, surprised, but Havram’s gaze merely sharpened. He said, “Really? That seems a very odd thing to happen.”

“We are very odd people.” Celadon managed to smile without showing her fangs. “He can demonstrate if you wish.”

The other groundlings were hard put to control their reactions.

Havram apparently decided she wasn’t lying. He made a dismissive gesture. “A demonstration isn’t necessary.” He regarded Stone with a bland smile. “I see you will be a most intriguing guest.”

Stone leaned back in his chair, elbow propped on the bronze arm, eyeing Havram as if deciding whether he was too bony to eat or not. He said, “I’m more interested in your other guest.”

From the way the groundlings all stared at Stone, they must have assumed he didn’t speak or understand Kedaic. Ennia recovered first, exchanged a puzzled look with Havram, and said, “What other guest?”

“The Fell ruler,” Stone clarified. “He eaten anybody yet?”