by Martha Wells
“That’s everyone!” Bone called out. He and two other hunters put their shoulders to the heavy door, sliding it closed and shutting out the rain and wind.
Blossom took Niran’s arm and helped him up. “Come on, let’s find Bead and Spice. They were supposed to make up a bower for us.”
“A what?” Niran said, wringing his shirt out as he followed her.
Someone handed Moon one of the pieces of scrap cloth being passed around, and he used it to scrape the mud off his feet and claws. As he finished, he glanced up in time to see Balm slip unobtrusively down a passage. He tossed the cloth back onto the pile and followed her.
He caught up with her just past the foyer, where the passage divided into three directions, all heading up into different parts of the teacher’s level. “Balm, where are you going?”
She stopped, her spines twitching uneasily. “To find somewhere to sleep.” Three young warriors slid past, carefully not looking at her, and Balm hissed. “I’m tired of feeling like I did something wrong.”
Balm hadn’t done anything wrong, except be unlucky enough to be used by the Fell to spy on the colony. Fell could influence groundlings, cause them to believe anything the Fell told them, and to do things they would never do in their right minds. They could use this power to a lesser extent on Raksura, but it didn’t work as well. The Fell had been able to make Balm tell them about the court’s plans, but she had had no memory of it, no awareness of what she was doing. Moon had seen enough groundlings in this same state to know it wasn’t her fault. But it had put Balm at a severe disadvantage in the maneuvering for dominance between Pearl’s faction of warriors and Jade’s. He said, “Then stop acting like it. Don’t let them treat you like this.” Jade’s influence could only protect Balm so far. River and his cronies couldn’t attack Balm outright; now that Pearl was taking more interest in the court, the last thing River wanted was to make her angry enough to intervene. But they could make Balm’s life a misery, and know that they were hurting Jade by proxy. And Balm just didn’t deserve it. “You belong with Jade.”
Balm hesitated, obviously torn. But she said, “I’ll… think about it,” and turned away.
Moon hesitated, half-tempted to follow, but he didn’t know what else to say to persuade her. He turned to the passage to the teachers’ hall.
As he walked through the bowers this time, they were anything but haunted and silent. Flower and the other mentors had been renewing the spells on every light-shell they could find. The warm light caught red and yellow highlights in the wood, chased the shadows away, threw the wall carvings into high relief. Arbora and Aeriat were everywhere, cleaning dirt and debris out of the bower beds, hanging wet clothes off the stairwell balconies, pulling bedding out of baskets. Their voices echoed through the rooms. They were excited to finally be here, relieved to be free of the cramped quarters on the boats.
Moon wanted to check on Bitter, Frost, and Thorn, and see the other clutches, so he followed the sound of squeaking and chattering. He had been the one to find the three Sky Copper fledglings in the Dwei hive, where the Fell had been keeping them as part of their plan to make more Raksuran crossbreeds. He wasn’t sure if the clutch had gotten so attached to him because of the rescue or because he was the first Raksura they had seen after their colony had been destroyed. Whatever the reason, Frost persisted in telling everyone that they were Moon’s clutch now.
There had been no question that Indigo Cloud would adopt them; at the moment the court had no other royal fledglings. If Moon and Jade didn’t produce any fledgling queens of their own, Frost could end up as reigning queen of the court. Moon knew that wasn’t anyone’s preference, but it was a relief to have the option available. And it would be twenty or thirty turns at least before Frost would be old enough to even be considered a sister queen, which gave him and Jade plenty of time to have their own clutches.
He found a round doorway with the lintel carved with baby Arbora and Aeriat tumbling in play, and stepped through into a big, low-ceilinged chamber.
At the moment, it was a chaotic mess, with Arbora children and a few warrior fledglings, all overexcited and shifting at random, as the teachers tried to calm them and put them to bed in nests of blankets and cushions. It was even more obvious here that there had been far more Arbora births than Aeriat. Hopefully things would even out, now that the court was in this new colony and free of the Fell influence that had haunted it for so many turns.
Circling the chamber as he looked for the Sky Copper royals, Moon passed a maze of smaller rooms opening off the main area, and several shallow fountain pools, now dry. The place had been meant to house far more children than Indigo Cloud could boast.
“Moon,” Bark called, a little desperately. Her arms were full with a crying Arbora toddler. She nodded down toward her feet, where Bitter, in Raksuran form, tried to hold onto Bark and two very young and squirming Arbora. “Could you—”
Moon crouched down, untangled Bitter’s claws from Bark’s skirt and coaxed him to let go of the toddlers. “Bitter, if you want to hold them, you have to shift otherwise you could scratch them.” From what Moon had seen, Arbora at that age shifted randomly back and forth, but their claws and spines were still soft; Bitter’s had already hardened, and he was still learning how to handle them.
Bitter looked up at him with big eyes, then reluctantly shifted. As a groundling he was a thin little boy, with dark bronze skin and a thatch of dark hair, dressed in a shirt that was too big for him.
Moon sat Bitter down on the nearest cushion, put one of the Arbora in his lap and the other next to him. Now that they weren’t being accidentally prodded by Bitter’s claws, they settled comfortably against him and shifted back to groundling.
“Thank you,” Bark said in relief. The baby she held settled down too, and sniffled and hooked claws into her shoulder. Bark nodded toward a bundle of blankets nearby. Frost and Thorn were curled up asleep there, Frost in her wingless form and Thorn as a groundling. He clutched her tail in one hand. “Those two went right to sleep, but Bitter’s been upset about the storm. Haven’t you, sweet baby?”
Bitter looked up at her and nodded solemnly, keeping a firm grip on the Arbora. Moon suspected it wasn’t the storm. Any upheaval had to be frightening for him. Bitter, Frost, and Thorn had seen their entire court killed, the queens and consorts, the other children in the nurseries, the Arbora who had taken care of them, everyone they had ever known.
Something similar had happened to Moon. He just didn’t remember it. He told Bitter, “I won’t be far away. Jade and I are just out there in the central hall. All right?”
Bitter nodded solemnly again, and allowed himself to be tucked into a nest with the Arbora babies.
Moon left the nurseries. Bitter obviously remembered what had happened to his court, all too clearly. Moon’s earliest memory was of living in the forest with Sorrow and the others, so he must have been even younger than Bitter when his court had been destroyed.
Just down the passage, he found Chime, Flower, and Rill in the teachers’ hall, all in groundling form, unpacking baskets and laying out bedding. Root and Song were already there, vigorously drying off their scales. With the glowing shells casting light on the carved forest, surrounded by the noise and scents of the rest of the court, the hall was much more welcoming.
Moon’s scales were dry enough now, and he shifted to groundling and stretched, trying to ease his sore shoulder. Chime looked up, still flushed with excitement, and told him, “Jade’s staying in here tonight, and Pearl is near the stairs on the level below with some more warriors. That way if anything tries to get in, it’ll run into one of us first. One of them. You know what I mean.”
“Good.” Even if nothing else had taken up residence in the tree, there was always the chance their presence would attract predators.
Flower carried a basket over to the heating basin and dumped out a load of small, flat river rocks. She sat beside the basin and held out her hands. After a moment, heat started t
o rise. She sat back with a sigh and tucked her skirts under her feet. “That’s better.”
Rill nodded, pulling out more blankets to hand to Song and Root. “It’ll get the damp out of the air.” She glanced around and pointed to one of the baskets. “Moon, those are some things from Jade’s bower, and we put yours in there too.”
As far as Moon knew, he didn’t have any things except the clothes he was wearing. Everything he had owned had been left behind in the Cordans’ camp. He went to open the basket.
On top were heavy quilted blankets and bed cushions, in shades of dark blues and sea greens, with patterns picked out in gold. He lifted those out and set them aside, figuring that was what they would be sleeping on tonight. Next there were a few rolled leather wraps. Peeking inside one, he saw it held jewelry, silver strands wound with polished green stones and deep-water pearls. Jade had used all the jewelry she had been wearing on their trip to the east to pay for supplies and to give to Selis in return for helping them. Apparently there was plenty more where that came from. He was beginning to realize that the Raksura didn’t measure wealth in gems or even the sturdy, colorful fabrics the Arbora made. He wasn’t sure what they did measure wealth in. “That’s a lot of jewelry.”
Flower sounded wry. “It’s nothing to what Stone’s collected over the years.”
“I only hope we found it all.” Rill, unpacking a copper-chased kettle, made a helpless gesture. “He had it hidden all over the colony. After everything that happened—”
“Don’t worry about it, not tonight.” Chime took the kettle away from her and set it on the warming stones.
Looking for more bedding, Moon pushed the leather rolls aside. The fur blanket beneath, the long soft hair dyed to the purple haze of twilight, looked familiar. He pulled it out to find it was bundled around a belt with a sheathed knife, the dark soft leather tooled with red in a serpentine pattern, with round buckles of red gold. These were the consort’s gifts Jade had left at the bower he had been using in the teachers’ hall at the old colony. The knife’s hilt was carved horn, the blade was a tooth, sharp as glass but as strong as fine metal. He hadn’t accepted them at the time, having no idea what he would be getting into and mostly certain that he hadn’t wanted to get into anything. Now… Now it’s different, he reminded himself. And he still really wanted that knife.
He left it and the belt on top of Jade’s jewelry and added the blanket to their nest of bedding. Suddenly self-conscious, he looked around to make sure no one was watching him, especially Stone. Then he realized he hadn’t seen him since they arrived. “Where’s Stone?”
Flower, carefully unwrapping a cake of pressed tea, said, “He went up to look around the queens’ level. That was a while ago,” she added, frowning.
Chime dropped a last cushion onto a pile of bedding and glanced up, worried. “You think something’s wrong?”
“No, not wrong, just…” Flower hesitated. “This place was his home, a long time ago.”
She was right; this had to be strange for Stone. Moon put the lid back on the basket and said, “I’ll find him.”
He took the stairs up to the greeting hall, where the soldiers had spread their bedding out around a hearth basin near the fountain. Merit was still with them, looking small next to the bigger Arbora. Merit waved, but the soldiers just stared at Moon with wary curiosity.
He shifted and jumped to climb straight up the wall, finding plenty of handholds built into the carving, rough from where generations of Raksura had hooked their claws. He followed the spiral well up and up, climbing past open balconies and galleries.
Somewhere far below, he heard a voice raised in song that echoed up through the passages of the tree. Moon winced. Please, not tonight. He hoped they were too weary for a full chorus.
The court had sung once aboard the flying boats, one night when they had been passing over a grass plain. It had been a dirge for the dead members of the court, and for the colony ruined by the Fell. The mingled voices had been so low and deep, so heavy with pain and loss, the deck of the Valendera had trembled like a sounding board.
Moon had slipped away from Jade’s side, retreating to the deck cabin. The door was partly open, and he ducked his head inside. Light came from glowing moss stuffed into the glass candlelamps, and Niran sat on the bed, which folded out from one of the benches along the wall. He said, “You might as well come in. Everyone else does.”
Knowing Niran, Moon took that for the invitation it was. He stepped in and sat cross-legged on the deck. For a normal voyage, Niran would have quarters below deck, but all those rooms were stuffed with supplies and Arbora. The waist-high wooden pillar in the center of the cabin held the fragment of flying island that kept the boat aloft, and let it travel the streams of force that crossed the Three Worlds. There were also a couple of clay water jars, and baskets of supplies, one with a pottery bowl and cup stacked atop it. Niran had a few bundles of paper next to him on the blankets, and a wooden writing tablet in his lap. He said, dryly, “I’m keeping a record of our travels, for my grandfather. He would never forgive me if I didn’t.”
Moon settled his back against the wall to support his sore shoulder. “It’ll help him get over missing this trip.”
“Hopefully.” Niran nodded toward the door. “You don’t participate in the… concert?”
Moon hesitated, debating several different excuses, then settled for, “I don’t know how.” Not counting the court’s stupid rules and customs, everything else about being Raksuran he had either learned from Sorrow or figured out for himself. The singing was alien, and it made him deeply uneasy. In its own way, it was as disturbing as the queen’s connection to every member of her court, the connection that let her keep you from shifting, or draw you in and make you feel like you were sharing a heart. It was too much like the Fell’s power to influence and cloud the minds of groundlings. Jade hadn’t shown any evidence of that ability yet, but that might be because she wasn’t the reigning queen. Moon wasn’t looking forward to the time when she did.
Niran lifted his brows and made a note. “I forget sometimes that you have only recently joined them.”
Moon had wondered if anybody else would ever forget it. And you’re worse than all of them, he told himself now. He hadn’t even tried to sing, just run off to hide with the only available groundling.
Climbing the wall of the mountain-tree, he pushed the uncomfortable thoughts away. They were all here now, and it was time for new beginnings.
The greeting hall was far below him when the ceiling finally curved up to form a wide circular gallery. He climbed up onto it and found it opened into another hall.
A few wall-shells glowed, enough to chase away some of the shadows. More round doorways led off into other chambers, and there was a dry fountain against the wall, the basin below it empty and stained with moss at the bottom. The carving above it made him hiss in appreciation.
It was a queen, a queen bigger even than Stone’s shifted form, her outspread wings stretched across the walls to circle the entire hall, finally meeting tip to tip. Her carved scales glinted faintly in the dim light, and as Moon moved closer he saw they were set with polished sunstones.
High above her head there was another open gallery. The rooms off this level had to be the bowers and halls for the reigning queen and her sisters, and he was guessing that the level directly above was for the consorts.
The gallery was a little high, but Moon crouched and made the leap up, caught the ridged edge, and swung up onto the floor.
The open space was ringed with doorways into a series of interconnected rooms. Moon shifted back to groundling, and wandered through the empty spaces, finding bower beds, heating basins, and dry fountainpools, easily deep and wide enough for swimming. He found a couple of small stairways that led to the queens’ chambers just below, and then another one that seemed to wind down a long way, probably to join the main stairs in the central well. There was an opening to the outside somewhere, because the air moved with the
rush of wind, damp and fresh. With the place cleaned and swept, with warming stones and running fountains, furs, and rich fabrics, it would be ridiculously comfortable. Moon couldn’t imagine being born into this kind of luxury.
In a room against the outer trunk, he finally found Stone. He stood at a big round opening to the outside, looking out into the rainy gloom. The opening had a heavy wooden sliding door, like the one they had found on the lower entrance. Stone must have opened it, dislodging the dirt and rotting leaves now scattered across the floor.
Moon stepped up beside him. A giant branch blocked the view directly overhead, but the doorway looked down on the platforms far below, now sodden under the pouring rain. In the failing light, he could just make out the old irrigation channels and ponds filling up, making a ghost outline of the gardens that had once been there.
Stone didn’t look around. His expression was, as usual, hard to read. He said, “It feels… wrong. It’s too quiet.”
The rain was a rushing din, but that wasn’t the kind of noise he meant. Moon said, “It’s not quiet downstairs.” He leaned against the wall beside the opening. The air smelled rich with the rain, the dark earth, and loam. “Were you here when they built… grew this place?”
His eyes still on the drowning gardens, Stone’s brow furrowed. “I’m not that old.”
Thunder rumbled, not quite close enough to make Moon twitch. “But you lived here.”
“For a while. I was a boy when Indigo and Cloud led the court away.” From his expression, it was hard to tell if it was a good memory or a bad one. “I was too young and stupid to see it as anything but an adventure.”
Then these rooms had been filled with light and life, when there had been so many Raksura here they had had to leave for more open territory. It had to be strange to see it like this, dark and empty, scented of nothing but must and stale water. Moon had never gone back to a place he had lived before, unless he counted the Cordans’ camp, and he hadn’t felt anything there except impatience.