The Siren Depths

Chapter Five

By the time Moon took the interior stairs down to the greeting hall, Tempest and Zephyr had joined their warriors. Jade was there as well, with Balm, Chime, and Heart. A number of Arbora watched from the balconies in the levels above, and warriors hung from every vantage point.

Despite that, it was very quiet in the hall.

As Moon walked toward the queens, Zephyr was saying, “No, I won’t be going to Opal Night. I’m returning to my court.”

Jade tilted her head and fixed her gaze on Tempest. “You’ve kept that to yourself.”

Tempest bristled. “You didn’t ask.”

Jade’s spines rose. “You let me assume you wouldn’t be taking this long journey alone with your warriors. And my consort.”

“You think I’ll take advantage?” Tempest laughed. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

It wasn’t until then that Moon understood what they were talking about. He stopped and folded his arms, growling under his breath. At that moment, if he never saw a Raksuran queen again, it would be too soon.

In the quiet, the growl was perfectly audible. The conversation stopped abruptly and the whole group turned to stare at him.

With a wry tilt to her head, Zephyr said, “Somehow I don’t think that’s going to be a concern.”

Jade dismissed Tempest with a flick of her spines, and crossed the hall to stand in front of Moon. He didn’t think she would notice, but it was the first thing she saw. She lifted his bare wrist and rubbed her thumb over the pulse point. She met his eyes, her expression glum, and said, “If you accept another queen before I get there, I’ll kill you both.”

He freed his wrist. He refused to feel like he was the one rejecting her. “It’s a deal.”

Jade let out a huff of breath, bitterly amused. “That was good. I think you just managed to insult your entire race and culture in one sentence.” She added deliberately, “I’ll leave for Opal Night tomorrow at dawn.”

Moon wanted to believe that so much it made his whole body hurt. But everything in his life up to this point said that this was the end, that he would never see her or any of the others again. Trying to struggle out from under the weight of the past was like drowning. After a strangled moment, he managed to choke out, “I’ll be waiting.”

Jade reached for him impulsively and Moon stepped back. He couldn’t look at her anymore, he couldn’t touch her. He had to be able to walk out of here, and not be dragged out screaming, trying to get his teeth into Tempest’s throat. Jade hesitated, then dropped her hand. “Do you want to say…I mean, talk to anyone?”

She meant say goodbye. Though he refused to look at them, Moon could feel Chime, Balm, and Heart staring at him, but he didn’t see any point to a formal farewell. If Jade was telling the truth, he would be back here soon, and if she wasn’t…He still didn’t see any point to it. “No.”

Tempest and Zephyr moved toward the passage to the knothole, and Moon turned to follow them.

There was still no sound or movement from any of the Arbora or Aeriat watching from above, and the silence burned into Moon’s back as he crossed the hall. He realized a very stupid part of him was hoping someone would yell “Stop!” at the last moment. His throat started to ache, choking him with an urge to do…something. Maybe wail in pain, the way Raksura expressed their grief.

He conquered the impulse, and followed the queens through the passage out of Indigo Cloud.

Zephyr took her warriors away toward Sunset Water, and Moon flew with Tempest and the others through the great green caverns of the suspended forest.

They passed through a light rain at midday, but the wind stayed calm. Tempest kept to an easy pace for the slower-flying warriors’ sake, and following her lead didn’t require much of Moon’s attention. He would have preferred a more difficult trip; the last thing he needed was time to think.

When the day’s light began to fail, Tempest slowed their flight and banked down to a platform high in the branches of a mountain-tree. The platform supported a stand of trees with bright green canopies and white flowers, common to the forest. The Arbora called them puffblossoms, because the flowers dropped their seeds in delicate puffy globes that caught and traveled in the breeze. These were in seed now, and the whole platform was covered in drifts of white fluff.

Tempest and the warriors landed in the high grass at the edge of the stand, their wings stirring up a storm of delicate blossoms. Moon lighted a little distance away, rippling his spines to shake off the puffy seeds and folding his wings.

The others moved into the trees, to a spot where the grass was sparse, and spread out to scout the area. There was a pond there, fed by a fall of water from one of the mountain-tree’s higher branches. Moon turned and walked away from the grove, toward a spot of flat bare moss and hard dirt at the edge of the run-off from the pond.

Across the canyon formed by the enormous canopies, another mountain-tree boasted larger platforms, some with open stretches of grass and others thickly clustered with smaller trees. As Moon focused on it, movement on one of the lower platforms resolved into a herd of furry grasseaters; probably the reason Tempest had picked this place to stop.

He glanced back at the camp. Three of the warriors had shifted to groundling and were sorting through the packs, shaking out blankets, filling a waterskin from the fall into the pond. The two others had kept their winged forms and had taken up guard positions in the puffblossom branches.

Moon didn’t want to shift; he already felt too vulnerable, from the dangers of the suspended forest, from his companions. But his back ached from flying with tense muscles and he needed to rest. Reluctantly, he took his groundling form.

Losing the weight of his wings was a relief, and he stretched until his joints popped, then sat down beside the stream. He wasn’t looking forward to the night. He hoped making it clear that he wanted to be alone would keep the warriors away from him. Of course, beating one or two of them senseless would keep them away from him too, but he didn’t want to give Tempest an excuse to keep him from shifting.

He was watching the multi-colored snails inching along the wood at the water’s edge when he sensed someone approaching. He looked up to see Tempest coming toward him.

Moon tensed, bracing himself to simultaneously shift and leap backward. Tempest stopped, dropped her spines and held up her hands, claws retracted. With an edge of ironic amusement in her voice, she said, “Easy, I just want to talk.”

Moon settled reluctantly, watching her. She came closer, stopped about five paces away and eased down to sit on her heels so they were eye level. She said, with a trace of skepticism, “I find it hard to believe you became that attached to Indigo Cloud in such a short time.”

Moon bared his teeth, not in a smile. “It’s not as exciting as Emerald Twilight. No sister queens plotting to take over the court.”

Her jaw tightened, her spines shivered with the effort not to flare, and she looked away. After a long moment, she let her breath out, and flicked away a drift of puffblossom. “I asked for that.” Her voice was dry. “I’ve paid for it, too. I don’t have so many sisters that I can lose one. Even one who hated me.”

After their trading visit to Emerald Twilight, the warriors and Arbora had brought back a rumor that Ice had tried to exile Halcyon for plotting against Tempest and Ash, Halcyon had refused to go, and Tempest and Halcyon had settled the matter by fighting to the death. Though Moon had felt sorry for Ice and Shadow at the time, overall he thought it was good riddance. He thought Tempest deserved an honest answer as to his feelings now, so he said, “I don’t care.”

It surprised her and she glanced at him, lifting a brow. “You aren’t a shy one, are you.”

Moon just continued to regard her, certain that was probably intended as more of an insult than it sounded. Consorts his age were supposed to be shy and reserved, like Ember. Not sullen and reticent, like him. If Moon was just a little more suspicious, he might wonder if he had been lured out of the court so that Tempest could kill him, as revenge for what had happened with Halcyon. The only reason that wasn’t more than an idle thought was the fact that Tempest could have killed him anytime in the past day, with no one but her warriors the wiser; there was no reason to travel any further.

Apparently expecting more of a response, Tempest snorted in exasperation. “Are you planning to behave this way at Opal Night?”

Meaning she expected him to have to beg to be accepted. Moon knew how that would go. “I’ve lived in a Raksuran court for only six months out of more than forty turns. If you think I’m afraid to be alone, you’re wrong.”

Tempest frowned, the skepticism in her expression gradually giving way to something harder to read. “It’s your birthcourt. It’s the largest court of the far west Reaches. You don’t see this as an opportunity?”

An opportunity for what? He didn’t know why Opal Night had demanded him, except that it was a way to exercise power over another court. If it was so large then it should have no need for extra consorts; if Moon was stuck there, the best he could expect was to be handed off to some unknown queen who was unlikely to consider a former feral solitary as any great prize. The worst…He didn’t know what the worst would be. Though Tempest might. Watching her intently, he said, “Maybe they don’t want a feral solitary in their bloodline.”

Tempest drew back, spines lifting in affront. “What do you mean?”

“They left me to die in a forest when I was a fledgling. How do I know they don’t want to finish what they started?”

Tempest hissed, surged to her feet in one fluid motion, spines rigid with contempt. “If you really believe that’s even remotely possible, you know little of us.”

Moon glared up at her. “I think I know too much of you.”

Tempest lashed her tail, crouched and leapt upward. Two strong flaps took her up to one of the mountain-tree’s lower branches. The gust of air stirred by her wings would have knocked Moon over, if he hadn’t braced himself.

From the shelter of the puffblossom trees, the warriors stared.

Moon let out his breath and flicked water over the snails. Apparently he had won; he didn’t feel proud of the victory.

Later, Tempest sent two of the warriors over to the grasseaters grazing on the platforms of the other mountain-tree to take a kill. They divided the meat up among the whole group, and Moon made himself eat, even though he wasn’t hungry. The light rain returned as full darkness fell, and the warriors put up a couple of thin stretches of fabric for a shelter. The cloth was treated with a kind of tree sap to keep the water from soaking through it.

Tempest and her female warriors Beacon and Prize took one tent, with Moon ordered to take the other, with two of the male warriors for company. The fifth warrior was set on watch, the others to trade out with him during the night.

It was full dark by the time Moon ducked into the tent, and the two warriors, Dart and Gust, were already occupying one end of the space. At least he didn’t have to look at them, though the scent of unfamiliar Aeriat put his nerves on edge. He had been too long in Indigo Cloud, where everyone was familiar, even if he didn’t like all of them.

As Moon crouched down and felt for a good sleeping spot in the moss and dirt, Dart said, “So this is the consort Halcyon was willing to kill for? I’m not impressed.”

Gust hissed a laugh. “Maybe he learned some tricks living with groundlings.”

Moon found a soft, not too wet place to lie down, and settled into it. He thought about how tormenting this behavior would be for a sheltered consort like Ember, and said, “If you touch me while I’m asleep, I’ll kill you both. I’ll tell Tempest a bowelripper got you.” He leaned forward, and said with hard emphasis, “You’ll look like a bowelripper got you.”

Dart and Gust froze into frightened silence. Moon curled up, using his pack as a pillow, and went to sleep.

That was how it went for the next three days of travel. The nights were wet and uncomfortable in the mostly inadequate shelter they found, and none of them got much rest. After the first night with Dart and Gust, the warriors tended to treat Moon with wary respect. They kept their distance, Moon ignored them, and Tempest didn’t speak to him except about the bare necessities of travel. Moon preferred it this way, but it left him with far too much time to think.

One topic that took up a lot of his time was the possibility of being alone again. If his pessimism proved accurate and Jade didn’t come for him, he would have to leave the Reaches as soon as possible. Raksura who were alone were assumed to be solitaries exiled from their courts for some intolerable act. A solitary consort would be assumed to be a murderer, groundling-eater, or worse. He would be better off in a groundling city, somewhere like the Golden Islands.

For a while he thought about that, about traveling east to the Yellow Sea, seeing if Delin and Niran needed a Raksura on their exploring and trading trips. But it was a long way to travel alone, and if he got there only to find there was no permanent place for him…It was a depressing prospect.

And Flower, with almost her last breath, had asked him not to give up on the Raksura. It was a promise he had made without any idea of how hard it would be to keep.

On the afternoon of the fourth day, they stopped to hunt big grasseaters on one of the platforms. At least the others did; they had made it plain that Moon’s help was not welcome. So he sprawled napping on a branch and didn’t see what happened until the shouts of alarm woke him.

He jerked upright to see the herd of grasseaters, furry rumps rolling as they ran, vanish into the trees at the far end of the platform. Near this end, Dart struggled frantically, one leg caught by a dark green creature, toad-like but nearly the size of the big grasseaters. It had risen out of a concealed dirt burrow in the heavy moss. Prize, the youngest female warrior, was on the ground, dodging clawed swipes from the creature’s free hand, trying to strike at its face. She misjudged and the creature slammed her across the platform. Moon snarled a curse and leapt off the branch, snapped his wings out to propel himself down as fast as possible. He thought, This is what happens to idiot warriors who don’t know how to hunt safely.

Moon landed on the creature’s scaly back, all his claws extended. It roared in pain, stopped trying to drag Dart into its mouth, and dropped him to reach back for Moon. Moon jerked his wings up to shield his head, flared his spines and found the spot he was looking for, a soft vulnerable patch just under the lower edge of its skull. Ground predators who looked like this usually had one. It grabbed a handful of his spines just as he stabbed his claws through the softer patch of skin and cut through what he was fairly certain was an artery.

Its grip went loose and it shuddered under him, then slumped. Moon leapt backward off it, then warily circled around the body, watching for signs of life. When its eyes went dim, he turned to look for Dart and Prize.

Tempest and the others were just swooping in to land. Dart stood over Prize, who had shifted to groundling and huddled in the flattened grass, eyes closed and teeth gritted, her face twisted in pain. Moon hopped closer, realizing her right shoulder was dislocated. He hissed in sympathy; he knew more about wing join injuries than he wanted to. The shock of the impact must have sent her into groundling form, making the injury worse. It didn’t look like a break, but it looked bad enough.

“Are you hurt?” Tempest asked Dart.

He shook his head, clearly miserable. “Prize tried to help me and it got her. The consort—”

“I saw it,” Tempest interrupted. She gave Moon an opaque look. “You’re all right?”

Moon shook his spines out. “Yes.”

“She can’t go on,” Beacon said. She crouched hurriedly to hold Prize’s shoulders as Prize retched in pain. Beacon looked up at Tempest worriedly. “She needs a mentor.”

Tempest nodded, her spines flicking. “Viridian Sea is close enough that we can reach it by nightfall. We’ll go there.”

Moon offered, “I’ll carry her.” He was about to add that if he and Tempest went on ahead, leaving the others to follow, they could probably get Prize there in half the time.

But Tempest said sharply, “No. We take care of our own.”

Moon bit back a hiss, insulted. “Fine. Next time I’ll let the predator eat him.”

Tempest ignored him, though the male warriors exchanged sulky glances.

Tempest carried Prize herself as they flew toward Viridian Sea, and Moon had time to realize why she was angry. Tempest hadn’t taken care of her own, and Moon had. If Moon had been a warrior, even one from a foreign court, it wouldn’t have been an issue. But he was a consort technically under Tempest’s protection, who clearly didn’t need that protection.

Jade had never seemed to mind, or at least never showed it. Maybe it was different because he had been Jade’s consort, so everything he did was somehow to her credit, since she had chosen him.

It was nice to have finally figured that out, now that it was too late.

The heavy rain started about midway through the flight, and they arrived at Viridian Sea well after nightfall, guided in by the colony’s lights. It wasn’t in a mountain-tree, but was built out of some knobby bulbous growth of wood nestled in the branches of a mountain-thorn. It was smaller and less thorny than the one Emerald Twilight inhabited, but still tricky to fly through in the dark.

By the time they reached the landing platform built out from the colony’s main entrance, the court was aware of them, and warriors and Arbora had come out to investigate. Fortunately, Viridian Sea seemed to be fairly reasonable, as far as Raksuran courts went. As soon as the warriors realized there was an injury, the reigning queen herself came down to rush them through the greeting process, so within moments they were ushered out of the rain and into the large wooden chamber of the colony’s greeting hall. Prize was helped away by mentors, accompanied by Beacon.

Moon stood to the side while the Viridian Sea queen and Tempest finished the greeting. He thought this colony might be fairly new; the hall was modest, with only two high-ceilinged levels, four passages opening off it, and the carvings in the walls looked fresh under the glow of the spell-lights. There were some flowering vines trained to cross the ceiling but no fountains or falls of water.

This court might be small, but it seemed healthy. The warriors and Arbora crowding the passages to get a look at the visitors had groundling forms that weren’t much different from those at Indigo Cloud and Emerald Twilight, most with bronze or copper skin and dark hair, though there was a distinctive strain of red-blonde mixed into their bloodline.

Moon just hoped they got offered a meal, since they hadn’t eaten their fill for two days. He had shifted to groundling along with the warriors, his clothes were dripping wet, and he felt grubby and tired. Bored, he scuffed his heel on the smooth wood floor, then realized the others had stopped speaking. He looked up to see the Viridian Sea warriors and Arbora staring at him expectantly. Amaranth, the queen, had her head tilted toward him in inquiry. “Your consort?” she prompted Tempest.

“No.” Tempest stiffened slightly but managed not to sound horrified at the thought. “We’re conducting him to Opal Night.”

Amaranth, who was somewhat older and larger than Tempest, flicked a spine, and the atmosphere in the hall grew distinctly colder. Moon figured that with the injured warrior having been taken care of, both queens had remembered that they were Raksura and therefore hated each other on sight. Amaranth said, “I assume he has a name.”

Tempest flicked a spine back at her. “He’s Moon, of Indigo Cloud.”

Amaranth stepped toward him and Moon twitched back, ready to bolt for the exit. But she stopped and tasted the air. “He’s been taken.” She tilted her head toward Tempest again. “Not by you.”

Tempest grimaced. “It’s a long story.”

Amaranth settled her spines and clearly made the difficult decision not to take violent offense. She said, “Then we’ll sit down, and you’ll tell it.”

Moon groaned inwardly, resigned to a long evening of tension and stares.

They were led into another hall, this one a little smaller. It was less drafty and had a large bowl hearth with warming stones. The band of carved flowers and trees just below the curve of the ceiling looked older and more finished.

As Moon looked for a place to sit, a consort dropped out of the ceiling and landed at Amaranth’s side. He was almost as tall as she was. He kept his winged form long enough to make sure the visitors had registered his size, then he shifted to groundling. In this form he didn’t show any of the telltales of age: his bronze skin and dark hair hadn’t started to gray yet. But there was a weight of gold bracelets and bands on his wrists and arms, the outward signs of Amaranth’s regard. He caught Moon’s gaze, making it clear he was speaking only to him, and said, “I’m Flint, first consort to Amaranth. Will you come to our hall?”

Streak, standing nearest to Moon, actually put a hand on his arm as if to stop him. Moon pulled away, baring his teeth in warning when Streak tried to reach for him again. Tempest hissed at Streak in barely suppressed fury, of the “you are embarrassing me” variety. Streak stepped back, confused.

Given a choice between going off with an unfamiliar consort in a strange court, or sitting here with the others and watching Tempest and Amaranth provoke each other, Moon didn’t have to think twice. He stepped around Streak and followed Flint down the nearest passage.

They had only gone up two winding turns before Flint stopped and faced Moon. The passage wasn’t empty; they were surrounded by ten or so worried Arbora. “Are they stealing you?” Flint asked bluntly.

“What?” Moon stared, taken aback. Then he realized what this must look like; consorts never traveled without queens they had either been taken by or were related to. He wished he was being stolen; then he could just kill Tempest and the others in their sleep and go home.

It was tempting for a moment to say “yes,” just to see what would happen. But Moon thought it would cause more trouble for Viridian Sea in the end than it would for Tempest. “No,” he admitted.

It must have sounded reluctant, because Flint lifted his brows skeptically. “Are you sure?”

Unable to muster any convincing sincerity, Moon just said, “It’s a long story.”

Flint accepted that with a nod. He motioned an Arbora over and instructed her to go back and let Amaranth know everything was all right, then he led Moon to the consorts’ hall.

It was comfortable, though not as large and luxurious as Indigo Cloud’s consorts’ quarters. The hall itself was small but cozy and well supplied with cushions, and there was an attached bathing room and five bowers connected to it.

Moon did have to tell the story, but the good thing was that he got to eat right away, whereas Tempest and the others would probably be expected to make polite conversation for a considerably longer time, until Amaranth got over her pique. The food was served in the consorts’ hall and Moon ate with Flint and three other consorts, one belonging to a sister queen and two untaken, the youngest looking as if he was just out of fledglinghood. There was tea, fruit, bread, and haunches of raw grasseater. While devouring freshly killed prey in the forest had its attractions, this was much more restful. Moon told them the truth, though he didn’t emphasize how long he had been alone in the east, leaving them to draw their own conclusions about when Indigo Cloud had found him.

He expected them to ask about that, but instead Flint said, hesitantly, “Your queen let you go?”

It was unexpectedly hard to answer. It took Moon a surprisingly long time to get the “yes” out. Flint and the sister queen’s consort exchanged a look; the two younger consorts stared at Moon with wide-eyed sympathy.

He had to turn away, the tightness in his throat making it suddenly hard to get a whole breath. The hostility and contempt from Tempest and her warriors had been easy to take; the concern of these people almost undid him.

Moon had been offered a spot in one of the hanging beds, but took the furs next to the hearth in the hall instead. After a while, the second youngest consort came down and joined him, easing up against his back, and placing a gentle and tentative bite on Moon’s shoulder. Moon had been among Raksura long enough to know this was an offer of sex. He didn’t respond, but he didn’t chase the other consort away, either. He liked the company but had decided never to have sex again; it was too hard on the emotions.

After a hopeful pause, the other consort nuzzled Moon’s shoulder and settled down to sleep. A little later, the youngest one, apparently feeling left out, came down and insinuated himself between Moon and the hearth, cuddling against his chest. He still smelled enough like a fledgling to make Moon’s heart twist. He didn’t think he would be able to fall asleep, but he did, and slept better than he had since leaving Indigo Cloud.

They spent three days in Viridian Sea, waiting for the mentors to judge Prize ready to fly again. Moon spent the time with the consorts, going out to fly around the outside of the colony with them, exploring the hanging gardens inside their smaller but still intricate mountain-thorn. He heard the history of their amicable split with their mother court, and how they had reclaimed this old colony, once just a hunting outpost. It turned out that they had a line-grandfather too, but he spent most of his time at their old colony, and they seldom saw him. Some Arbora came up to join them in the afternoons and evenings, to tell stories and read aloud. It made Moon reconsider his decision not to live at Opal Night, if the worse came to worst. If the consorts there were this friendly, it wouldn’t be so bad.

If worse didn’t come to worst and Jade had left when she said she would, she would be two days ahead of them by now.

The one thing he hadn’t expected to do was to miss Indigo Cloud so much. He had been leaving people all his life, to the point where all the turns seemed like an uninterrupted progression of departures, and there had been people he had missed terribly. But this was a never-ending ache in his chest, and every thought of Jade, Stone, Chime, Balm, the fledglings, Heart, Bell, Merit, Rill, Bark, Bone, Blossom, the other Arbora, was an active pain. You’ll get over it, he told himself. You always get over it.

But somehow, this time was different.

Finally, on the morning of the fourth day at Viridian Sea, Moon reluctantly left the consorts to join Tempest and her warriors. Tempest acknowledged his existence with a nod and an opaque expression; the warriors looked grumpy. He suspected their accommodations hadn’t been nearly as comfortable as his. Before Moon had left the consorts’ hall, Flint had told him not to worry, that everything would surely be all right. He had said it with the unconvinced air of someone who knew it wasn’t true but had no intention of saying what he really thought, but Moon appreciated it anyway.

They set out again, flying to the west.

It rained every day, lightly enough to fly through but still making for miserable nights. As they traveled, the forest gradually changed, the mountain-trees growing further apart and the ground between becoming increasingly studded with rocky outcrops. The outcrops grew gradually taller, until they formed pillars reaching up to the height of the taller platforms of the suspended forest. The pillars were sculpted by the wind and rain into slim spirals, the rock dark gray but shot through with veins of silver that caught the light and threw back rainbow reflections.

Tempest had grudgingly admitted that she had never been this far west before, and was now navigating solely by a map that Ice had shown her. The warriors, having never seen country like this, grew uneasy. Moon, with nothing better to do and his own nerves eating away at him, took to dropping hints about various horrible Raksura-eating creatures he had encountered under similar circumstances. Some of the stories were actually true.

Everywhere they stopped, Moon searched unobtrusively for signs that Jade was ahead of them somewhere, but found none, and the rain obscured any scent that might have been left behind. They did find signs of a camp on one of the platforms where they landed to rest, but it was months old. Gust nudged the remains of the fire pit with his foot claws, asking hopefully, “We must be close? One or two more days?”

They had to be close to the edge of the Reaches. For the past day or so, the mountain-trees had been further apart and the platforms mostly bare of anything but grass. The forest floor seemed to have more rock pillars than greenery, as if the mountain-trees had been slowly encroaching on some stony expanse, and hadn’t had time yet to finish the job. “We’ve made good time,” Tempest admitted. “We might get there late tomorrow.”

Moon didn’t look for opportunities to terrorize the warriors that night; he was dreading their arrival while being so impatient for it he couldn’t think straight.

But on the next day, thunder rumbled all through the morning, threatening to slow their progress. Heavy rain started in the late afternoon.

After they had fought it for a while, Tempest landed on a branch, sheltered only by the mountain-tree’s canopy high above. She raised her voice to be heard over the rush of rain, saying, “I think we’re almost there. We can either spend time searching for shelter, or try to make the colony.”

Beacon glanced around at the warriors, gauging their stamina rather than taking their opinion. Moon, a much stronger flyer, was tired from fighting the wind, so they had to be feeling the strain. They stood with their spines drooping, dripping, and probably miserable, but none of them looked ready to drop from exhaustion. Beacon said, “I think we’d rather sleep dry tonight.”

Dart and one or two of the others nodded agreement. Tempest cocked her head at Moon. He shrugged. On his own, he would have stopped and found a place to hide and wait out the thunder, but he wasn’t going to show that weakness in front of them.

So they flew on through the rain. Moon had hoped that they could out-fly the storm, but it seemed to cover half the Reaches, pounding down as the afternoon stretched toward evening and the gray light grew more dim.

Moon was beginning to doubt the accuracy of Tempest’s ability to estimate distance. Then thunder crashed and lightning washed the sky in white. Moon flinched so hard he lost control of his wings, and the wind spun him down and sideways. Copper scales flashed in his peripheral vision, right before one of the warriors slammed into him.

Instinct took over and Moon pulled his wings up to prevent a collision that could have broken bones. He grabbed wildly, caught the flailing warrior by the collar flange and yelled, “Stop flapping, idiot!”

The warrior snapped in his wings in reflex and clung to Moon’s arms. It was Gust, dazed and frightened but sensible enough to go limp and let Moon help him.

With a couple of hard flaps Moon righted them, his head pounding from the crash of thunder that still reverberated in his bones. Shaking the rain out of his eyes, he looked for the others and saw they were flapping hard to catch the wind again, with Tempest banking back toward them. She saw Moon had Gust and motioned him toward the branches of the nearest mountain-tree.

Carrying Gust, Moon followed her in and landed on the broad branch a few paces down from the other shaken warriors. He set Gust on his feet and shouted over the dying rumble of thunder, “We have to stop!”

Tempest stepped close, taking Gust’s arm and peering into his face to make sure he was all right. Satisfied, she pointed to the south with one wing tip. The rain nearly drowning her voice, she said, “The colony is just down there!”

Startled, Moon turned to look. At the mouth of the valley, dark against the gray sky, huge stone pillars stretched up from a rocky ridge that formed a giant ring, much of it overgrown with vines and smaller trees. It enclosed a huge mountain-tree, but it was a hideously deformed one. Some past cataclysm had split the enormous structure in two, so half of the trunk leaned into the ridge, the malformed canopy reaching for the sky but at a steep angle, creating twisted branches and huge gaps. The other half of the trunk still stood, but the bare branches jutting from it showed it was long dead.

With all that to take in, it took Moon a moment to realize what else was wrong: there were no lights visible in either of the two trees. No steady white-gold glow from enspelled shells or stones or flowers, no warm glints of firelight. He said, “Are you sure they’re alive?”

He hadn’t meant it to sound facetious, but Tempest apparently took it that way. She snapped her spines at him and leapt off the branch. The warriors, caught by surprise and still recovering, followed in a belated rush. Moon took a deep breath and dove after them.

As they drew closer, Moon still saw no signs of life, though the heavy rain made it hard to make out details. The dying gray light threw the surrounding ridges of rock into deep shadow, but as they flew over the stony barrier, all the vegetation he could see was wild and untended, the same heavy green tangle of vines and moss and saplings that covered the forest floor. Inside the bowl of rock, the wind formed tricky currents and the ground was covered by a mass of giant mountain-tree roots, groves of small trees, and tumbled piles of rock. The slanting trunk of the living half of the tree still showed no hint of occupation. No lights, no movement. The platforms cradled in the branches were overgrown and slumping under the weight of wild vegetation. Moon hoped Tempest knew where she was going; the bowl was the size of a small valley and there was no sign of sentries, no indication of where the landing platform for visitors might be. It didn’t look like a place that wanted visitors.

Then Tempest spiraled down toward the lower half of the slanting trunk, and banked sideways. Following her lead, Moon saw it too: where the bulk of the bole rested against the rock, two small steady lights shone against a dark opening. There really is a court here, he thought.

They dropped down toward the platform. The tree had grown into and partially through the ridge, and the two spell-lights revealed a circular stone platform extending out from the trunk where ribs of wood had enclosed chunks of rock. The tree overhung the platform enough that it sheltered them from the worst of the downpour, allowing only a light drizzle to reach them.

It wasn’t until his claws touched down on the slab of stone that the shadows shifted and Moon realized the rock woven through the tree’s bark was carved stone. Gray faces, pieces of arms, shoulders, torsos poked out between the sections of glossy wood. The light on either side of the open doorway blossomed on stones carved into the shapes of lotus flowers. It was impossible to tell if the fragmented statues had been meant to represent Raksura or groundlings. Moon couldn’t see much of the ridge half-buried under the looming trunk, but now he wondered if without all the clinging greenery it would look smooth or terraced; this ancient mountain-tree might have sprouted in the middle of an even older groundling ruin.

They all shook the water off their spines and scales. A faint scrape of claws on rock brought Moon’s attention back to the trunk’s entrance. A door deep inside it had opened and let out a wash of warm light and a slim figure.

Tempest turned her head to hiss at her warriors, reminding them of their manners. They all shifted to groundling, though the wary tension in the way they stood showed none of them were happy about it. Beacon glanced at Moon and motioned impatiently at him, as if he could somehow miss the fact that he was supposed to shift too. He hissed under his breath, gritted his teeth, and let his winged form slip away, the water left on his scales transferring to his clothes.

The warrior who stepped out of Opal Night’s doorway was slim and strong, dark hair pulled back from her face, the light catching glints in her dark bronze skin. Her clothes were ordinary, a shirt belted over loose pants, the colors in faded shades of red. Her expression was studiously neutral. She said, “I am Rise, of Opal Night.”

Beacon stepped forward to Tempest’s side. She said, “I’m Beacon, of Emerald Twilight. Our sister queen greets you, and brings the consort from Indigo Cloud.”

Rise tensed almost imperceptibly, and her gaze went to the warriors behind Tempest and Beacon, dismissed them, then to Moon. He felt a tickle of unease travel down his spine. It was generally hard to tell a young consort’s groundling form from a warrior’s, and Moon, dressed in somewhat worn clothes and not wearing any jewelry, had nothing to set him apart. But somehow Rise had known immediately he was the consort.

He had been expecting indifference, or perhaps just hoping for it. In a few heartbeats he was going to have to walk through that door into a court who had gone to some trouble to get him here, and he had no idea why.

Rise said, “We hadn’t expected you would arrive so soon.” She sounded more disconcerted than pleased by it. After a moment she added, “Please come inside,” and turned to lead the way through the dark doorway.

She didn’t say anything about Jade, Moon thought. If Jade was already here, surely Opal Night would have expected Tempest to arrive before now. It was hard not to ask; he knew he was supposed to keep quiet until he was acknowledged by a reigning queen or taken away by another consort. The friendly reception at Viridian Sea had made him more reluctant to break rules and act the part of crazy solitary here. He followed Tempest and the others inside, hoping to find a way to get the question in without alienating half the court.

They went through the dark passage and the doorway beyond. The opening was large enough for a line-grandfather to pass through without ducking, and led into an equally large hall, bare except for the intricate carvings on the walls. A few rock-lights on the floor reflected red light off the polished wood, but the upper portion of the room was cloaked in shadow.

Three other warriors waited there, all young males, all with a close enough resemblance to Rise to be her clutchmates. They glanced at the Emerald Twilight warriors, but picked Moon out as easily as Rise had, staring at him with nervous intensity.

The hall was quiet, though Moon sensed movement somewhere above. The air was cool and smelt strongly of wood, earth, and of strange Raksura.

Rise said, “Our daughter queen would greet you, but she’s away from the colony tonight.”

The skin on Tempest’s back rippled as she sternly controlled her spines. It was mildly diverting to watch Beacon struggle not to look offended. This was obviously not a problem Emerald Twilight encountered often. “Perhaps a sister queen is available?”

Rise hesitated, as if reluctant to admit it. “There is a sister queen here—our court has two primary bloodlines—but the situation is…complex.”

Beacon glanced at Tempest, uncertain. As Moon understood it, queens weren’t supposed to speak until they were greeted by another queen. Before the situation became even more awkward, Rise added, “But the reigning queen of our bloodline will greet you.” She looked at Moon again as if she couldn’t help herself, her gaze quickly returning to Beacon. “I know she has been very anxious for your arrival, and to be reunited with the only surviving consort from her last clutch.”

Moon felt as if someone had punched him in the head. He was dimly aware that Tempest and Beacon had exchanged a startled glance, that Tempest looked back at him with a newly assessing eye.

His mother was alive, and the reigning queen of this court.