by Martha Wells
All around them, on the other tree-stalks, hundreds of leaf-eyes swiveled to regard them but none of them unfurled their limbs. The tree swayed toward them and it took everything Moon had not to leap backward. But its vines formed patterns in the air, shaping figures, spreading stalks from each vine to make more complex designs.
From behind them, Merit said softly, “Maybe that’s how plants talk.”
Moon watched the show until it ceased, then threw a despairing glance at Stone. Stone’s jaw was set. Hoping against hope it was some sort of sign language he wasn’t familiar with, Moon said, “Did that make any sense to you?”
Stone growled low in frustration, then made his voice even and soft again. “We can’t understand you.”
One of its tendrils, drifting near the ground, flicked up and brushed Moon’s tail. He flinched away, his fight or flight reflex almost sending him right off the branch. The only thing that stopped him was that the vines jerked back too, as if the tree was just as startled as he was.
Stone tensed, but didn’t flinch. He said, “See, I don’t think it’s dangerous.”
“Just because it doesn’t eat people doesn’t mean it’s safe …” Moon began, but the tree’s tendrils stirred into motion again, making more complicated gestures. He gave up. The creature seemed more interested in talking than attacking.
Floret muttered, “It probably wants us to leave.”
Merit eased forward cautiously, staring intently at the tree. “Let me try. It might understand this.”
Merit stepped away from Moon and Stone, and the tree’s leaf-eyes turned to follow him. He started to act out a pantomime of someone crossing the platform, and others searching for him.
Floret groaned under her breath, but Moon thought this was better than nothing. The tree seemed to be studying Merit closely, though it was hard to tell. Then it suddenly stretched out a tendril and brushed Merit’s arm.
Merit froze, then shook his head, frills flying. He sat down abruptly and Moon lunged for him.
Moon got there a heartbeat before Floret, grabbed Merit’s arm and hauled him to his feet. Merit blurted, “One came first, and went up the wind-curved branch toward the trunk. Others followed, and tried to speak to it. It didn’t understand but it thought they must be after the first one, and pointed the way for them. And can we hurry up and go, our voices make it itch and we’re keeping the children awake.”
Above them the tree’s vines waved in silent agitation.
Moon handed Merit to Floret and waved to the other Arbora and warriors to follow. “Thank you,” Stone said to the tree, and they made for the branches on the far end of the platform.
They had to step down onto the spongy ground, but Moon was careful not to use his claws. They were here. Until now, he hadn’t really believed it. He looked back to see the tree folding itself into its stalk again, some of its leaf-eyes still watching them.
“Wind-curved … which one is that?” Stone demanded.
Merit, tucked under Floret’s arm, pointed to the third branch from the left. “That one!”
The branch arched up away from the platform before dropping down to wind away through the heavy greenery. Bramble hurried past them to lead the way.
As they climbed further away from the platform, Stone asked Merit, “You all right?”
“I think so, yes,” Merit said, though he thumped himself in the side of the head as if trying to shake something loose. “Floret, you can put me down.”
Floret did, but kept a hand on his arm to steady him. Merit said, “It doesn’t see things the way we do. It touched Moon’s tail because it looked like a vine. Our tails were the only things on our bodies that made any sense to it.”
They were past the arch in the branch now and at the point where it turned away into the canopy, out of sight of the platform. Floret looked warily back, as if checking to make sure the trees weren’t following them. “So that was who Jade spoke to in your vision? That tree person?”
Merit nodded. “I think so.”
Moon hissed under his breath. This didn’t make sense. “Why did one of them go into the canopy alone?” Jade had been here to go to Ocean Winter, not to explore, and she wouldn’t have let the others get so distracted.
Stone shook his head, his intense frown suggesting that he found this behavior just as unlikely as Moon did. “Did it say if it saw them come back?”
Merit said, “No. But then, they didn’t have to go back the way they came in.”
Bramble echoed his thought. “Maybe that’s what they did. The firepit in the camp was covered, so they must have come through here in the morning, after they had gotten ready to leave.” Her attention was on the terrain ahead, as the branch wove down through the layers of the canopy. More thorn vines crossed above and below them.
Plum’s group climbed down an intersecting branch and Moon signaled them to fall in at the back. Now that they knew Jade’s group had taken this branch, there was no reason to split up.
The canopy grew more shadowy as they made their way further in. The Arbora found more patches of ground fruit and roots, and a whole grove of bevel nut trees clustered on a branch that crossed above them. Multicolored treelings fled shrieking as they passed, and tree frogs bigger than Moon hung from the thorn vines and stared unblinking at them. Thick clouds of insects swarmed around them, then departed, frustrated by their scales and by Stone’s strange scent. Moon still didn’t see any reason for Jade or Chime or any of the others to want to come this far into the canopy. There were lots of interesting things here, but only if you liked somewhat creepy plant life.
After they passed a place where giant blue globules of what might be mold or some sort of spore hung from the bottom of another branch, Band said, “Maybe the tree lied. It could be sending us into a trap.”
Moon hissed in pure irritation. “We know that.” It was a possibility, but Merit’s moment of contact with the tree-person had given Moon the impression that it wasn’t much interested in the strange creatures who had walked past it. It spoke like something that just wanted to get back to its own concerns.
Bramble said, “Maybe—”
Just ahead of her, Salt stopped abruptly and said, “Or maybe they saw this.”
Moon pushed forward and stepped past Stone. Below their vantage point, the branch they stood on curved down into a giant open space in the center of the enclosing green foliage of the canopy. At first Moon thought they were looking at a jumble of fallen platforms, overgrown with vines and small trees. Then he saw shapes among the foliage that were too regular, straight lines, spirals, elegant curves. He thought, It’s a city.
Something had built a city inside the mountain-thorn, an enormous city.
There were hisses of awe from the Arbora and warriors. It filled the entire center of the canopy, a space big enough to comfortably fit Indigo Cloud’s colony tree. It must have been built on a series of branch platforms, but Moon could see fragments of weathered white and gray stone through the vines and creeping greenery. Even buried by plant growth, the structures were huge, monumental buildings. There were round towers, so covered with moss they looked like trees. The city must have been too heavy for the platforms, because the supports had clearly collapsed at some point, sending buildings sliding into each other, crushing the platforms below. Structures had crashed into branches, held up only by the heavy entangling vines. There were broken bridges, toppled columns.
“This isn’t anything Raksura would build,” Plum said, in a hushed voice. “Is it groundling? Or Kek?”
“Kek couldn’t move those stones, not without help,” Bramble muttered, sounding confused.
“Maybe the tree-people built it,” Sage said. “Before they were trees.”
Then Floret said, “Moon, is it like the city under the island? The forerunners’ city?”
Floret had waited for them on the surface, and hadn’t seen the underwater city for herself. Moon said, “No. I don’t think so.” He hoped not. “I’d have to see the inside
.”
Then Stone said, “It’s a flying island. It fell here. That’s what twinned this mountain-thorn. It hit the trunk and split it in two.”
Moon shook his head, about to say that it was impossible, that it was too big for a flying island city. But the longer he looked at it, the more sense that made. The high arch of the canopy overhead had long grown back, so there was no sign of the damage it must have done to the upper part of the tree. But it would explain the stone construction, and the way it had collapsed.
He took a step forward, and Stone caught his wrist. His voice low, Stone said, “If Chime saw this, he would have wanted to get closer.”
“But he would have known that might be dangerous.” Chime, having stumbled on this place, might have been hard put to pass it by, but he would have been too wary to linger. Moon didn’t know about Coil, but even though Jade, Balm, Song, and Root didn’t exactly suffer from any lack of curiosity, they all knew better. “Merit, is this what you saw in your vision?”
Merit boosted himself up on his foot-claws to see past Serene, and she pulled him forward to give him a better view. “It must be. It’s a huge surprise.”
Stone was giving Moon a look, and Moon didn’t need to ask what he meant by it. While this city was bizarre, it wasn’t nearly as astonishing as some of the other strange things he knew Jade and Chime had seen. They went inside, Moon thought, and that’s where it happened.
Chime should have known better, Moon thought. Somehow he knew it was Chime who had gone into this place and that Jade and the others had followed. Chime should have known better, which made him think that Chime must have had a reason to come here. Maybe not a good reason, but a reason nonetheless. Or something forced him to come here. Something or someone the tree-person hadn’t seen.
Like the creature imprisoned in the underwater city.
The thought made Moon so cold it locked his joints for an instant and he slipped while climbing over a knot in the branch. That Band was the one who caught his arm to steady him didn’t make the moment any less awkward. Fortunately Band looked more confused than anything else and said nothing to call attention to the incident.
Chime would have known to resist a mental voice like the one that had drawn the Fell to the coastal island. And the other warriors all knew enough about that voice to be frightened by it and tell Jade. So maybe it didn’t just ask Chime to come to it, maybe it forced him somehow.
He reminded himself they didn’t know anything yet, that just because the city was old was no reason to suspect that it was a prison for some horrible creature. There were stories all across the Three Worlds about the flying islands and their former inhabitants, all vague, all contradictory, probably because the flying island people hadn’t been one species, but many, all very different from each other. Moon had never heard a story about monstrous creatures imprisoned on islands, either. But that didn’t set his mind at ease.
By the time they made their way down to a branch near the city’s fringe, the gray-green light was deepening into heavy gloom. It was only the edge of evening, but there must still be clouds overhead and the mountain-thorn’s canopy blocked so much light that night would always fall early inside it.
Moon burned with frustration but there was no way they could start the search now. The city was already in deep shadow, and even with Merit spelling light for them, it would just be too dangerous. Walking into the same trap that Jade and the others had sprung wouldn’t help anyone.
Trying to distract himself, Moon told Stone, “If they’re in there somewhere and just … stuck, we might be able to see firelight once it’s full dark.”
Stone didn’t say any of the things he might have said about the unlikelihood of a trap that provided access to food and water and firewood but no way out. He just grunted thoughtfully. “There’s no telling if they’re inside. They might have found something here that led them somewhere else.”
Moon had thought of that. It was one of those possibilities that meant they were alive, but just not acting in any way that made sense.
Moon didn’t want to split the group overnight, so he sent Aura and Sage to take the alternate route along the thorn vine and to lead River and the others back here.
They made a camp on the intersection of two broad branches, about a hundred paces above the edge of the nearest crumbled stone terrace. The building it still supported was a mostly featureless lump under the vines and moss, but Moon could make out three large domed towers, linked by a bridge at least three stories tall. This close, they could see there were openings into the lowest level, big circular portals into blackness, each one three times Moon’s height. With most of the city cloaked in shadows and the canopy going dark around them, it wasn’t a reassuring sight.
It was already too late to hunt, but they had eaten last night and the Arbora collected some melons and other ground fruit and roots from the scattered patches on the surrounding branches. With all the forage available, if any of the inhabitants of the city had survived the fall, they might have been able to live for a time here.
He said that to Bramble, as they sat beside the pile of thorn chunks Merit had spelled for heat, so the Arbora could make tea and bake some of the roots. Bramble said, “That would make sense.”
But Merit, sitting nearby and spelling clumps of moss for light, said, “I don’t know. I feel like this place is old.”
“Of course it’s old,” Bramble said. “But whoever lived here still had to eat.” She glanced at Moon. “And if it is a forerunners’ city, like the underwater one you found, then the people who lived here probably ate the same kind of things we do.”
“I mean very old,” Merit explained. “So old it didn’t fall into the mountain-thorn. That it fell, and the mountain-thorn just grew up around it.”
Bramble frowned at the city, considering it. Moon wasn’t sure why it should be startling. He had seen the underwater city, grown out of the base of the coastal island, older than the Raksura and the Fell. And the Opal Night mountain-tree had grown through the ruins at its base.
But this just seemed wrong, here in the heart of the Reaches.
In a little voice, Strike said, “If it’s a forerunners’ city, does that mean it has a monster trapped in it too?”
Everyone went quiet and still. So quiet and still, Moon knew the question had already occurred to all of them; Strike had just been the only one to dare speak it aloud.
Bramble gave Moon an apologetic grimace, aware that bringing up the possibility repeatedly probably hadn’t helped. Stone, apparently agreeing, flicked a fruit stone at her and bounced it off her head. As Bramble shook her frills and rubbed her temple, Moon said, “It doesn’t mean that. Even if it is a forerunners’ city, and there’s nothing to say it is, it would be a wild coincidence if it had something that dangerous locked up somewhere in it.”
Everyone rustled and settled their spines, at least pretending to be reassured. Then Venture, who had been staring at them in incomprehension, said, “What’s a forerunner?”
Aura looked at Moon, he nodded, and she said to Venture, “I’ll tell you the story,” and took her aside.
The conversation went off into tangents then, and Moon stopped listening. He had to fight the urge to shift and fly into the city. They needed light to search, he told himself. They might not be looking for trapped Raksura but for a sign that something had lured or taken them away to somewhere else.
Merit collected his pack. “I’m going to try scrying again. Now that we’re here, maybe I can get a better vision.”
Moon glanced at him, then hesitated. Merit was hollow-eyed with exhaustion, and it brought back a vivid memory of how Flower had looked, scrying their path to the leviathan and the stolen seed. He reminded himself that Merit was young, and had seemed confident about being able to take the strain. He hoped Merit was right. No one had ever mentioned anything about young mentors dying from too much use of their powers. He said, “Band, Serene, keep an eye on him.”
It was late
at night when Moon twitched awake to quiet footsteps on the moss and dead leaves. He had fallen asleep sitting up beside the hearth, and the quiet footsteps were Merit’s.
Four warriors were on guard on the branches above, but the others were scattered around close to the hearth, drowsing or just sitting up, too nervous to sleep. The Arbora had put up one shelter, but no one was using it. Stone had stretched out beside Moon, in his groundling form. He was breathing deeply, but Moon didn’t think he was asleep.
Merit made his way unsteadily around the hearth, followed by Band and Serene. Stone sat up, soundlessly. Merit knelt in front of Moon, wavered, and Moon gripped his shoulder to keep him upright. Merit was small for an Arbora and had always looked a little fragile, at least to Moon; it was reassuring to feel the solid muscle under his hand. Merit said, “I’m sorry, I just saw the same vision again,” and folded forward into Moon’s lap.
Moon caught and cradled him, felt his chest to make sure he was breathing well. As the other Arbora gathered around, Serene said, “He tried very hard.”
“I know.” Moon handed Merit off to Plum, who carried him to the shelter.
Moon looked toward the city, holding back a groan of despair. The place was huge, and after so long they could easily miss the subtle traces of tracks. Some idea of where to start the search would have been …
Moon blinked, then squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. It was a faint glow, in the center of the darkness where the city lay. It was partially obscured, so he must be seeing it through a window or door. He nudged Stone and pointed.