by Martha Wells
And if the warriors of various Raksuran courts were willing to cart the groundling around from colony to colony, whatever he brought with him must be choice.
Arbora were already starting to gather around him, waiting impatiently. Moon joined the back of the crowd, easily able to see over the shorter Arbora. Stone wandered up beside him, and Moon asked, “Have you ever met a groundling like this before?”
“Probably.” Stone shrugged. “His name’s Iglen. He’s not a talker, like Delin.”
Their favorite Golden Islander had a wealth of information and stories. Moon had been hoping for something similar, but from Stone’s lack of reaction, Iglen was either reticent or boring. “Were you down here last night?” he asked, aware it sounded accusing.
Stone gave him a look. “Believe me, it wasn’t that exciting.”
That was probably true. But Moon would have still preferred to be bored himself instead of hear secondhand about it. “Did he say what he had to trade?”
“No. He mostly talked about fungus.”
Somehow Moon doubted that. But then Iglen pulled a bag out of his pack and emptied it onto the mat. The Arbora pressed closer, gasping in awe. Moon craned his neck to see.
Spilled across the mat were small smooth lumps that ranged in color from dark honey to a pure grass green. The Arbora stared, fascinated, the warriors edging closer to look over their shoulders. Stone made a disgruntled noise and wandered off. He had clearly been hoping for something better. Moon had been hoping for something better too, and he couldn’t think why the others were so excited.
Jade stepped up beside Moon, and he said, “It’s amber. They’ve seen amber before.”
“Yes, but we never had that much.” She was stretching to see too, though her expression held studied indifference. Moon shook his head. It was a good thing the groundling traders of the Abascene would be too terrified of Raksura to attempt the journey here. Raksura were lousy traders.
“It’s hardened tree sap,” Moon pointed out. “You can’t walk across open country in some parts of Kish without tripping over it.” He thought the lumps of ore from Sunset Water, dug out of the rock of the forest floor with great difficulty and yielding harder and brighter stones, were much more valuable.
Jade lowered her voice. “Yes, but it’s pretty.”
After a while, everyone had had a chance to admire the amber and most of them had wandered off to take care of their own trading. Jade had gone to see to the more important business of the seed and root stock trading. Moon had just turned to head back over to see if Chime and the others had been able to get any new books, when Rill edged through the last of the lingering warriors. She plunked down at the edge of the groundling’s mat and upended a bag of small lumps of polished pearl.
Moon elbowed a few warriors aside and sat on his heels next to her. “Rill, what are you doing?”
“I’m trading my pearls for some of these stones,” she said brightly.
Yes, that’s what Moon had been afraid of. “Do you remember when we traded five pearls for the right to use the Golden Islander’s flying boats?” He pointed at the amber. “That’s not the same as a flying boat.”
The groundling Iglen watched in disapproval. In passable Raksuran, he said, “I didn’t know warriors took an interest in trade.”
Rill turned to Iglen, tilting her head ominously. She didn’t shift but the heavy muscles tensed under her brown skin and it was suddenly almost possible to see the ghost shapes of the scales, sharp fangs, and sickle claws of her other form. She said in a flat voice, “He’s a consort.”
Iglen sat back, holding up his hands. “I apologize!”
Moon managed not to roll his eyes in annoyance. Even fungus-dwelling groundlings had opinions on his lack of suitability as a consort. He said, “That’s all right.”
Rill regarded Iglen a moment more to make certain he was actually sorry, then turned back to Moon. “These are small ones, though, and those were big.”
Moon held up one of the glossy lumps of pearl. “Rill, somebody had to swim out to a sea kingdom and risk drowning and being eaten by angry sea creatures to bargain for these. Who knows what they had to trade to get them. Stone could fly somewhere and get you all the amber you wanted, just by picking it up off the ground.” Stone heard his name from across the hall and looked around, spotted Moon, and eyed him narrowly.
Rill snorted. “But Stone won’t do that.”
Moon ran his hand through the bag. Some of the pearls were a tawny color, some almost pink, and he had never seen anything like them. Rill could have started her own trading empire in any number of eastern cities just with this bag. “Because he doesn’t need to, because what you have is better.”
Iglen said, “In the other courts, the consorts did not take this much interest in trade.”
“Moon is different,” Rill told him. “He used to live with groundlings.”
Iglen’s frills lifted. “Oh?”
“Near Kish,” Moon said, pointedly.
Iglen’s frills drooped. “Oh.”
That, more than anything else, convinced Moon that Iglen knew exactly what he was doing. Stone was over there encouraging Blossom to trade handfuls of sunstones for cakes of pressed tea leaves, but that was to another Arbora, who was just as likely to trade the sunstones for wooden beads, or seeds for an unusual kind of berry. Iglen would eventually take Rill’s pearls outside the Reaches where they could probably be traded for all the available goods in a medium-sized groundling town. Moon asked Rill, “Where did you even get all of these?”
“I traded for them turns and turns ago from Wind Sun, to make jewelry for Pearl. But she doesn’t like them. And they wouldn’t look right on Jade, or Ember, or Stone.” She held one up to Moon’s face and squinted at the result. “Or you.”
“Make something for yourself, or somebody else.”
“I don’t like them either,” she admitted in a whisper. “They aren’t very good to work with. And I want the pretty green amber.”
“We’ll get you the pretty green amber,” Moon told her. He shook out a few of the lesser pearls, then tied up the rest in the bag.
“But consorts aren’t supposed to trade—”
“You’ll do the trading,” Moon said. He fixed a pointed, meaningful gaze on Iglen. “I’ll just sit here.”
Iglen’s ear-frills twitched in dismay.
That evening the Arbora prepared a special meal in the greeting hall for the visitors, with baked spiced roots, fruit, and bread along with the usual raw grasseater meat. Moon sat with Jade, Chime, Balm, Heart, and a few other warriors and Arbora, sprawled on the cushions and currently stuffed with good food. Everyone seemed deeply satisfied with the trading, and both Indigo Cloud and Sunset Water seemed to feel they had come out the winner in the exchanges. Moon supposed they both had, by Raksuran standards.
“Everyone certainly got a lot of that amber,” Chime said, gesturing around at the Arbora who were showing their trades to each other. “Even some of the warriors.”
Balm nodded. “The leader of the Sunset Water Arbora told me that Iglen has never had to trade so much of his stock to get so little.”
“Yes, it’s funny how that worked out,” Jade said, gazing thoughtfully at Moon.
Chime frowned at Moon. “And why were you over there all afternoon? I thought you didn’t like amber.”
Moon’s attempt to appear innocent and only mildly interested was clearly failing, so he said, “I like amber fine. I don’t like traders that take advantage of people.” Iglen wasn’t obligated to play fairly. But Moon wasn’t obligated to let him get away with it, either.
Jade flicked a spine. “Well, when they make a lot of amber jewelry for you, you’re just going to have to wear it.”
THE ALMOST LAST VOYAGE OF THE WIND-SHIP ESCARPMENT
This story is set in another part of the Three Worlds, with a different cast of characters.
Jai had thought this job was a good idea for a number of reasons, but watching Flar
en’s face as they waited to meet with Canon Hain, she was no longer so sure. Flaren was grimly trying to contain any emotion, but his desperation was leaking out of him like he was a sieve.
Jai scratched her lip beneath the curve of her tusk, and said, as if to herself, “We could jump over the side, swim for it, until Kiev could pick us up.” Foreigners and exiles were only permitted to set foot on the floating city of Issila at the trading platforms, so that was where they waited, the fresh salt-tempered wind pulling at their hair and clothes, the sun warm and bright.
The platform was on the far edge of the city, about a hundred long paces above the restless waves of the sea. Jai couldn’t see much of the city from this angle, just a few gleaming copper roofs beyond the stairwell tower. The whole massive structure of wood and metal platforms, held together by hinged joints, rolled with the motion of the waves so it didn’t break apart during the Ataran sea’s mild storms.
She saw that Flaren did not much like her suggestion that they flee. The open stairwell tower that led up to the city’s main gates was only a short distance away, and Canon Hain’s party was already making their way down the long spiral. Flaren said, “It’s a little late to leave.”
Hain reached the bottom of the tower and started across the open platform toward them. He was older than Jai had expected, the wind whipping at his gray hair and the dark robes wrapping his body. The five others with him were dressed in light scale armor over dun-colored garments, and must be bodyguards.
Jai found the armor unnecessary, considering how well-defended Issila was and how few serious enemies the city had. Two of them even carried the long silver tubes of projectile weapons, uncommon in the archipelagos. The Issilans closely guarded the secrets needed to construct the weapons, and the minerals used to fire them were precious and rare. “You would think they go to war all the time,” she muttered. “Like children playing dress-up.”
“Will you stop it,” Flaren said through gritted teeth.
“He can’t hear me,” Jai retorted. But it was better to present a cool united front to Canon Hain, not look as if they had been arguing like children. Especially if they had been arguing like children.
Hain stopped ten paces away, fixing his gaze on a point between them. “Which of you is the captain?” His voice sounded strained, pitched to carry over the sound of wind and sea.
The bodyguards were staring at Jai. She felt herself to be a striking figure by any standard, but she knew they were staring because she was kinet, from a mountain range on the mainland far to the east, and her people seldom came to this coast. She was tall and strong, with smooth brown skin like polished wood, thickened to protect against the harsh cold of the mountains. Her hair was all long wiry curls and no one but other kinet appreciated the red designs carved into the white tusks curving down either side of her nose. The guards seemed to barely notice Flaren beside her, with the same dark hair, dark eyes, and softer, dark gold skin as they had.
Jai eyed Canon Hain with disapproval. “You may address me as Captain.” The kinet didn’t organize themselves in a way that most other species, including Flaren, could understand, but Jai usually took the leader’s role. She spread her hands, palms out, in a polite greeting. “I am Jainin dan Ethana, of the ship Escarpment, and this is my esteemed navigator, Flaren.”
Hain didn’t acknowledge the introduction. His small eyes still fixed on a point between them, he said, “You agree to carry the ransom to the savages who have captured our ship?”
“That is why we are standing here, yes.” Jai couldn’t help sounding dry, and Hain’s gaze flicked toward her.
“We’ll take it,” Flaren said. His voice was harsh. The bodyguards might think it was anger, but Jai could hear that it was pure nerves. “We’ll make sure the crew and passengers are released, and escort them back here.”
The Canon looked at him directly for the first time, a brief glance tinged with dismay. He made a signal and the bodyguard on the right moved forward, holding out a chased metal box. As Flaren stepped up to take it, Hain said, “The box is spelled. If the lock is broken before it is delivered, the contents will be destroyed—”
Jai cut him off. “We are not thieves, so we are uninterested in the lock.”
Hain pressed his lips together, stiff with annoyance. Jai wanted to roll her eyes, but managed not to. Issilans were touchy and deeply concerned with their own personal honor, which sometimes meant assuming that no one else had any.
Flaren said, “We need the location.” Watching Hain, he added deliberately, “And our payment.”
Hain nodded to another bodyguard, who pulled a small sack off his belt and stepped forward. He tried to hand it to Flaren; his arms were full so Jai reached for it. The man stared at her hands, the round blunt nails as thick as claws, then blinked and surrendered the bag.
Jai opened the sack, and briefly counted the trading disks inside. They were good currency at any civilized port along the coast or the islands, and the amount was right. They had agreed to a third of the payment now, the rest once the hostages were freed. There was also a folded sheet of paper and Jai fished it out, unfolding it to see a quickly sketched map and some directions.
“You can find it?” Hain asked.
“Yes. If we can’t, we’ll just have to come back for better instruction—” She looked up in time to see Hain turn so abruptly he startled the bodyguards. He started away across the platform.
“Father!” Flaren choked the word out as if he couldn’t stop himself. Hain didn’t hesitate, didn’t look back. The bodyguards followed hurriedly, darting glances back at Flaren.
Jai looked at Flaren’s stricken face, and felt her heart sink. A large and guilty part of her soul had been hoping for this sort of rebuff. She knew it was for the best, but that didn’t make it any less painful for Flaren.
When the message had gone out for an itinerant crew to deliver a ransom, Hain had obviously not expected the ship that had given shelter to Flaren to answer the call. Hain was not going to accept his son back into his house, and nothing Flaren did or didn’t do was going to change that. She thought Flaren had taken that to heart, and suggesting the situation might be otherwise was no act of friendship. But Jai couldn’t stop herself from saying, “Perhaps it’s guilt. He knows he was cruel and unjust—”
Flaren turned and took a few steps away, his shoulders as tight as wire. Cursing herself, Jai waved up at the Escarpment.
Kiev must have been watching carefully. The wind-ship had been circling about two hundred paces above the platform. It dropped immediately at her signal, the ropes dangling from the break in the railing. As the ropes lowered within reach, Jai caught them, sorted out the one that had a basket attached for lifting small quantities of supplies. Flaren joined her to tuck the box into the basket and tie the lid securely.
Jai eyed his set expression. “I’m sorry. I think it was me. I spoke to him too sharply and he took offense—”
“It wasn’t you,” Flaren said, and clipped a safety line to her harness.
Inwardly cursing her stupidity, Jai rendered further apologies in the time it took the ilene-powered winch to draw them back up to the Escarpment. So much so that when they stood on the boarding deck, after they detached their harnesses from the lines, Flaren took her shoulders and shook her, saying, “Enough. I accept your apology. All of your apologies. Please stop.”
The kinet believed that if something was worth saying once, it was worth saying a few more times, but Jai had long recognized that this was not the way of other species. She promised, “I’ll stop.”
Flaren squeezed her shoulders, gave her a wry smile, and went forward to the steering cabin and the hatch that led below decks. “What have you done to him now?” Kiev asked, leaning over the rail of the small upper deck. He was also kinet, though small for a male, being barely Jai’s height.
“I was rude to his judgmental bastard of a father.” Jai untied the basket lid to take the ransom box out. It was heavy, the sides and sealed top orn
amented with swirling designs in copper and silver. From the weight there were several heavy objects inside, probably lumps of gold or some other precious metal. She could feel a faint vibration through the surface, the outward evidence of whatever spell had been used to secure it.
Kiev lifted his furry brows. “Your plan is to sabotage his chance to return home?”
Jai hefted the box, looking up at him in exasperation. “It is not a plan. He has no chance to return home.” Flaren knew that. Or she had assumed Flaren knew that. She was beginning to wonder about her judgment.
Still wondering, she crossed the small deck toward the cabin. The Escarpment had been built in a place called the Golden Isles, or at least that was what the man she had bought it from had told her. Flying islands were more numerous there, and the wind-ships were powered by a tiny piece of the mineral that lay at the heart of the islands, which kept them aloft and drew them along the lines of force which crisscrossed the Three Worlds. The Escarpment was a small example of its kind, only fifty paces long from bow to stern, with a hull constructed of a light lacquered wood fiber that was deceptively strong. Its only sail was a fan-shaped one that opened out from the single mast.
A wind-ship would not be much use in the harsh mountain winds of Jai’s home, but was perfect for trading along the coast and the archipelagos of the calm Ataran Sea. Kiev, skilled in the manipulation of metal and heat that was well-known in their own mountain country, had added improvements using ilene, an energy-imbued mineral mined beneath their home city of Keres-gedin.