by Martha Wells
Chime and Song, sprawled near Moon on the platform, both snarled in chorus. But with weary patience, Jade said, “Their people are traders. For them, baubles like that are a measure of trust.”
Baubles, Moon thought, grimly amused. There had been times when a few baubles would have made all the difference in the world.
At least it gave Root something to think about. He was quiet long enough that the sun lulled Moon to sleep again. The next time Root spoke, it was to say, “Something’s coming in from the sea.”
Moon rolled to his feet, almost shoulder to shoulder with Jade. In the distance, a shape danced on the horizon, but he couldn’t tell if it was on the surface of the water or flying above it. There was no distinctive scent in the wind, animal or otherwise.
“Wait here.” Moon shifted and jumped off the platform.
He had only made a third of the distance before he could see it wasn’t one shape but three: three long wind-ships, their fan-like sails spread, making their way towards the shore.
Moon had been on boats that sailed on the water, but he had never had the freedom to climb all over one in his shifted form and see how it worked. The wind-ship was bigger and more interesting than any he had been on before. Under the main deck toward the bow were two large holds, empty except for food stores for the crew and clay water jars. The holds took up most of the room, but toward the stern there were smaller cabins for sleeping and eating, and one solely for the storage of maps, drawn on thick reed paper and rolled into lacquered wood cases.
The wind-ship’s sails were like giant fans, unfolding out from the large mast when the sailors pulled and adjusted the ropes. A ladder on the mast ascended to a little wooden box at the very top.
“What’s in here?” Chime asked, leaning over to look in. “Oh, sorry,” he added in Altanic.
An Islander woman was inside, apparently acting as look-out. She was very young, dressed like the other sailors in pants cropped at the knee and a loose shirt, her white hair kept off her face by a patterned scarf. She looked startled by their sudden appearance, but not panicked or upset.
“Will these ships hold the entire court?” Moon asked, boosting himself up to cling to one side of the box. Up here, the view was unobstructed by the sails or the bulk of the ship below. The marshland spread out below them like a green carpet, the hills a brown and gold haze in the distance.
“It’ll be crowded, but I think we can do it.” Chime hung on to the other side of the box, lifting his head so the wind stirred his spines. “If they have to, the warriors can spend most of their time in the air.”
Jade was over on the second ship with Root and Song, speaking to Diar, who was in command of the expedition. Ten Islander sailors crewed each ship, most members of Delin’s extended family. Niran was in charge of this vessel, and hadn’t made any effort to speak to them. His attitude still made it plain that he would rather not be here at all.
Moon felt a light touch and looked down to see the look-out run her finger down one of his claws, as if fascinated by the smooth texture and the bronze and black banding. He didn’t move, too bemused to react.
“Delin’s waving at us,” Chime said, leaning out to peer down at the deck. “I think he wants us to come down.”
Delin stood on the deck with Niran. Moon let go of the box, leapt out, and cleared the sail to glide down to the deck. Chime landed beside him a moment later and they both shifted to groundling. Niran’s jaw was set and his golden skin flushed with irritation. That’s going to be a problem, Moon thought. It was also going to become annoying. Both he and Chime knew better than to pull on ropes or touch anything else that looked delicate; if Niran had difficulty dealing with them, it was going to be interesting to see how he handled it when curious Arbora were climbing all over the place.
Delin just smiled. “You like our ship? It is the Valendera, the oldest of our craft, built by my father’s father. The others are the Dathea and the Indala.”
Chime said, “Yes, but how do they fly?” Earlier, he had climbed over the side and down under the hull, trying to see what kept the ship in the air. Moon had just figured that some things flew and some didn’t, and since the ship was from a flying island, its chances of doing so were better than most.
But Delin said, “I’ll show you,” and led them back toward a small deck cabin in the stern. Niran followed with an air of unspoken protest.
When Delin opened the heavy door, Moon saw that crystals in the walls and roof allowed in light while blocking the weather. Built-in benches along the wall doubled as storage chests. A shelf held lacquered map cases. But in the center of the cabin was a wooden pedestal with a heavy metal lid. It was etched with glyphs in the Islander language, and other symbols Moon hadn’t seen before. Metal handles stood out from the top of the pedestal, apparently so it could be turned, allowing the symbols to point to different directions.
Delin touched the lid, smiling reverently. “This contains the sustainer, the engine which controls the ship’s speed and direction.” He slid a bolt aside and opened the top of the pedestal. Inside was a chunk of gray rock, shot through with glittering metallic elements. He looked at them, brows lifted inquiringly. “Do you know what this is?”
Moon had no idea. He guessed, “A magic rock.”
Chime’s face was rapt. He looked up at Delin, smiling. “A piece of a flying island.”
Delin nodded. “A small piece, a very important piece, from the heart of an island. One of the things we search for in our explorations are fragments of islands, uninhabited and too small to be of use. We excavate and look for these rocks, which are buried throughout them.”
Chime looked like he desperately wanted to touch the rock, but knew he shouldn’t. “So you turn the case—”
“And the ship turns with it.” Delin carefully closed the lid again. “The force of the sustainer propels us. It allows the ship to float on the waves of invisible force that cross the Three Worlds. The sails are only to take advantage of the wind for extra speed. We can’t be becalmed like an ocean-going ship.”
It was probably a stupid question, but Moon couldn’t help himself. He asked, “When you take the rocks out, do the islands sink?”
“If we take too many, yes,” Delin told him. “There is a plateau in the north that is said to be a large flying island that fell to the ground. They believe several civilizations fought over possession of it, and that their attempts to drive each other away caused the power inside the rock to stop working.”
Chime stepped around the pedestal, examining the rest of the cabin. In the back wall, a small compartment held a heavy bowl of water with a sliver of metal shaped like a fish floating in it. Chime touched the bowl. “What’s this?”
That one Moon recognized. “It always points to south, so they can navigate.” He touched the fish, making it spin and bob.
“How do you navigate when you fly?” Delin asked.
“I always know which way south is.” The words were out before Moon remembered that he didn’t actually know if that was a Raksuran trait or not. He slid a glance at Chime.
But Chime nodded as he leaned down to study the little metal fish. He said absently, “It’s a pull toward the heart point of the Three Worlds. We all feel it, including the Arbora.”
Delin was already opening his writing box, but Niran stared, disbelieving. He repeated, “You always know where south is.”
Moon and Chime both pointed. A moment later the metal fish steadied in its bowl, seconding their opinion. Niran folded his arms, his face still skeptical. Exasperated, Moon had to ask, “Why would we lie about that?”
Delin sat down on one of the benches built into the wall, smiling mildly as he got out his writing instrument. “I’m sure a test could be arranged.”
That took up the rest of the afternoon.
Below them, the marshes gave way to plains studded with scrubby trees. The wind changed as they traveled further inland, and the sailors folded the sails up; the ships then moved with only the
sustainer to power them. It was slower, but they still made good progress. Another benefit of traveling on a flying boat was that you didn’t have to stop to sleep or eat; Moon thought the steady progress of the ships would come close to making up for their slower speed.
In the early evening, Moon took Root and Song hunting, and they brought back a couple of big flightless birds, similar to vargit, for the Islanders. By the time they got back, the setting sun was turning the sky a warm gold.
Diar, on the Dathea, thanked them with genuine enthusiasm. “We usually live off grain porridge and dried root crops on these trips, and at home every meat other than fish is imported, costly, and not fresh.” She was older than her brother Niran, short and strongly built. She didn’t seem to share Niran’s reservations or, if she did, she hid it better.
While the crew carried their catch away, Moon remembered something he had meant to tell the younger warriors. “Don’t eat in your shifted form in front of the Islanders.” Some of the crew were openly nervous of them, some curious, and others cautious. Watching warriors eat would appall most groundlings, and it was too easy to imagine Root dragging a fresh kill up onto the ship’s deck.
Song nodded understanding, but Root had to ask, “Why not?”
“Because you’re disgusting,” Chime told him. “Even we think so.” Moon didn’t think he was exaggerating; Chime had been an Arbora for most of his life, and the mentors and teachers ate more like groundlings than Raksura.
Root bristled, then looked at Moon, and meekly lowered his spines.
Each ship had a special room below for cooking, with a fire in a heavy metal container. The Islanders cut the birds up, mixed them with root vegetables from their stores, and cooked it all in clay pots. Moon was still full from eating this morning, but it smelled so appetizing that accepting a bowl to be polite was no hardship.
Afterwards, he went up on the deck. Big lanterns were lit on the prow, but most of the ship was in shadow. Many of the Islanders on the Valendera had gone below to sleep or sit at the long table in the crew’s common room. The decks of the other two ships were empty except for a couple of sailors on watch. Root and Song were over on the Dathea, and Chime had gone up on top of the steering cabin to sleep. Moon didn’t know where Jade was until he caught a glimpse of blue and gray in the light of the bow lantern.
He took a step in that direction, then made himself turn back. He was leaving after they moved the court, and there was no point in… There was just no point.
He wandered back down the deck, to a platform where coils of rope were stacked. Sitting there, he had a good view over the railing.
The night air was like cool silk against his skin. The other two ships were half-lit shapes to either side, moving in near silence. When he flew under his own power, the terrain flashed by; at the slower pace and lower altitude of the ship it was much easier to see and oddly fascinating to watch. He caught flickers of movement in the tall grass and the trees, and hints of scent in the breeze, but he was too well fed to feel any urge to obey the reflexive impulse to hunt.
Then he heard a light step on the boards. Jade climbed onto the platform and sat near him. She wore her Arbora form, her colors soft and muted in the shadow. She curled up her tail, wrapped her arms around her knees, and said, “If you stand by the ladder, you can hear them talking below. I was listening to what they said about us.”
Moon lifted his brows. It was always a good idea to be cautious, but her expression didn’t seem urgent, so she must not have heard anyone plotting against them.
Jade continued, “They say we’re not nearly as savage as Niran led them to believe.” One corner of her mouth lifted in a smile. “They think Root is cute.”
Moon twisted around to look over at the Dathea. The moonlight illuminated Root and Song sitting on the railing in groundling form. Root flicked at Song’s hair, apparently in an attempt to get her to shift and rip his head off. Moon considered intervening, but he figured the situation would work itself out in a moment. “Would they like to keep him?”
“I may ask.” Jade sounded amused. “They call you ‘the quiet one.’”
Moon supposed it was true. Over on the other ship, Song pushed Root off the railing. He tumbled, shifting in mid-air, and caught himself before he crashed into a tree. As he flapped back up to the ship, Moon said, “It’s hard to believe he’s related to Branch.”
“He isn’t. Though they’ve always been close. Root’s other clutch-mates were all Arbora.”She absently rubbed at the polished wooden boards, looking thoughtful. “Sometimes there’s a division, among the warriors, between those whose mothers were Arbora and those whose mothers were queens. Branch’s clutch-brother is a good example of that.” Her voice turned dry. “He’s too clever to push me, so I have no excuse to give him the beating he deserves.”
Moon turned back to look at her, frowning. If Branch wasn’t related to Root, then his name might not mean tree branch, but… He said, warily, “Branch’s clutch-brother is River? And there’s another warrior called Drift?”
Jade nodded absently. “They were one of Amber’s clutches. The other two clutch-mates were consorts, but they didn’t survive. Why do you ask?”
Moon considered not answering, but he didn’t owe River any favors. “My first day at the colony, River and Drift told me to leave.”
Jade tilted her head, eyes narrowing in annoyance. “Did they.” She looked out across the dark forest. “River is one of the warriors who sleeps with Pearl.”
That… somehow isn’t a surprise, Moon thought. It certainly explained River’s attitude.
Still sounding irritated, Jade said, “Queens and consorts always have warrior and Arbora lovers; that’s not the problem. And it isn’t as if I think she should be alone. But with Pearl’s consort dead, it’s as if River thinks he’s taken that place. He’s not a consort, and sleeping in her bower doesn’t give him a higher place in the court.”
Moon had noticed that sex among the Arbora seemed informal, and he had assumed it was that way among the Aeriat as well. When Moon was younger, he had always made it a point to try to figure out the local customs. It had taken him some time to realize that just because someone offered to have sex with you didn’t mean he or she was supposed to or that accepting wouldn’t get you killed. But every groundling settlement had different rules, and often there were different customs even within individual tribes and cities, and after a time he had just given up on it. It was something else that had made the Cordans’ camp an easy place to live; it had all been decided for him.
“The last place I lived, the elders chose who lived together. People didn’t always listen,” he added, remembering the rumor about Kavath and Selis’ cousin. “But it mostly worked out.”
Jade hesitated, her claws working absently on the wooden platform. “Stone told me he found you living in a groundling settlement.” She tilted her head, watching him directly. “Was it very hard to leave?”
“In a way.” Moon couldn’t keep the irony out of his voice; Stone obviously hadn’t told her the whole story. “One of the women I was living with saw me shift, and thought I was a Fell. She poisoned me and told the others. They took me up into the jungle and staked me out to die.” He heard her startled hiss, and finished, grimly, “They were Cordans. The Fell moved across their land, from city to city, town to town, killing and eating and moving on. They have reason to be afraid.”
She was still a moment, watching him. “You’re defending them.”
Moon bit his lip and said nothing. He couldn’t defend them, but he didn’t want to listen to anyone else condemn them, either. Until you had seen a groundling settlement ravaged by the Fell, you couldn’t understand. “If she hadn’t seen me, I’d still be living there.”
Jade shook her head a little. “But would you be happy?”
When Moon left the Indigo Cloud court, it would be so people wouldn’t ask him questions like this anymore. Being warm, dry, able to find food, shelter, in friendly or at least not o
penly hostile company, were the only things that had ever mattered. He said, “That was never the point.”
She was quiet for so long he thought she would leave. Moon couldn’t see the point in talking to him, either. Then he felt a gentle touch, as Jade drew her fingers through his hair.
The touch moved to the back of his neck, drifting over the vulnerable skin that Pearl had scratched. Her hand slid down his back, and he realized she was giving him time to escape. But when she pressed against his side, he leaned into her warmth.
She brushed her cheek against his. In Arbora form her softer scales had the texture of rough velvet. Every muscle in his body went tense, heat coiling through him. You told yourself you weren’t going to do this, he thought. Except it was hard to hold to that with Jade’s arm around his waist, her breath in his ear, her teeth gently nipping the back of his neck. And if he didn’t stop now, he wasn’t going to stop.
He jerked away from her, scrambling to his feet. He rasped out, “I can’t,” and shifted. He leapt up and away, clinging to the mast for a moment before pushing off.
He landed on the cabin roof with a loud thump. Chime, lying on the warm wood in groundling form, started and blinked at him. “What’s wrong?” he asked sleepily.
“Nothing.” Moon folded his wings and started to sit down.
Then Jade thumped down onto the planks. Badly startled, Moon went into a defensive crouch. Chime yelped and curled into a ball, arms over his head. Jade whispered rapidly, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that. But it’s just that you’re here.” She hissed in frustration and leapt into the air.
Moon eased back to sit down and shifted to groundling. Chime sat up, breathing hard, one hand pressed to his chest. He gasped, “I thought you were going to fight.”
“No. Not fight.” Moon didn’t intend to explain further.
From somewhere below, he heard Niran’s voice, demanding wearily, “What are they doing up there?”
After a time, Chime grumbled and lay back down, moving around, trying to get comfortable again. He had just settled down when Moon heard a rush through the air as someone glided over. Root landed lightly on the cabin roof and folded his wings. Sounding embarrassed, he said, “Jade threw me off the other boat. Can I stay here with you?”