Page 11 of The Siren Depths


  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 an
d 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.

  Chapter Six

  Your mother is alive, Moon thought, just to hear the words again. It was suddenly hard to take a full breath. Moon had thought Opal Night regarded him as just a token in Raksuran court games, a way to take a slap at Emerald Twilight and Indigo Cloud. It was clear that was how Tempest had seen the situation.

  Moving by reflex more than conscious effort, Moon followed with the others as Rise led the way to the end of the hall and the high-ceilinged passage beyond it. It curved around and then slanted upward. They walked under balconies and past smaller doorways. He heard faint sounds of movement, voices, the distant rush of water.

  Somehow he hadn’t expected this, that anyone here would be closely related to him. He didn’t know what he had expected, but it wasn’t that.

  As a fledgling, lost, alone, and hating every instant of it, he had fantasized about this moment. He had given up on ever having it a long time ago.

  He wasn’t sure he wanted to have it now.

  These are the people who abandoned you, left Sorrow, Leaf, Bliss, Fern, and Light to die. They didn’t bring you here because they wanted you back, he reminded himself. But his heart pounded in anticipation.

  Moon caught a hint of movement ahead, right before he saw a female Arbora standing in a doorway. She could have been one of the Arbora from Indigo Cloud: short, strongly built, with the same dark hair and bronze skin as Rise. She wore a light tunic and pants, and as they passed the doorway Moon saw younger Arbora crowded behind her. As she saw him, her eyes widened, and she turned abruptly to say something to the others with her. The excited whispers were lost as they continued down the passage. Moon couldn’t make out the words.

  The walls changed suddenly, with stretches of gray stone woven in between lengths of wood. They had to be passing into the section of the trunk that had grown into the stony ridge. Then one wall opened out to a dark space, what Moon first thought was a view of the outside. Then Tempest stopped, her spines twitching in surprise.

  Rise noticed her reaction, and said, “That’s the central well of the tree.”

  As Moon’s eyes adjusted he saw it was a hollowed-out portion of the mountain-tree, slanted where the trunk lay against the ridge of stone. Even in the dim light he could tell the space was enormous. Far larger than Indigo Cloud’s central well, it extended much further through the bulk of the tree. The walls of dark wood were ringed with balconies, all shrouded in green vines. From the upper section, high above their heads, a waterfall tumbled straight down to a pool far below. There must be openings to the outside somewhere above, because a light mist of rain was falling.

  And through the obscuring greenery, lights glowed in the dimness, randomly speckling the whole interior of the tree. This court is huge, Moon thought. He could catch faint scents in the cool damp air, flowers and some smoky incense, and many strange Raksura. Suddenly the bleak appearance of the outside of the mountain-tree, the overgrown and deserted platforms, made sense. It’s deliberate, for defense. No one passing by would have any idea a Raksuran court lived here, let alone such a large one.

  Tempest exchanged a look with Beacon. Turning back to Rise, Beacon said, “It’s a very fine colony; the rumors of the size of your court were not exaggerated.”

  Rise said, with a trace of hardness in her voice, “We have had much to overcome in the past turns, and our queens felt the need for the strength of numbers.”

  Beacon frowned, puzzled. “Of course.”

  They continued on. Not far ahead the passage opened into a large room shaped like an overturned bowl. Carvings of warriors in flight climbed the curving walls, touched with the gleam of inset gems. The image in the center of the roof was a queen, her wings and tail curled into a circle. Two other passages curved away from it, wide archways framed by the downswept wings of two carved consorts.

  The room below the magnificent carving was empty, though there were cushions laid out around the raised stone bowl of the hearth. It didn’t look like anyone else had been greeted here recently, but then Jade might have arrived more than a day ago.

  Rise gestured for them to sit as the warriors with her brought out a kettle and a tea set. Moon sank down onto a cushion in the back, behind Tempest and Beacon, with the other Emerald Twilight warriors ranged around. His clothes were damp and the room was cold, as if the warming stones had only been hurriedly dumped into the hearth. His throat was dry and he was glad he wouldn’t have to speak until the queens finished greeting each other.

  He didn’t know what he was going to say. He didn’t even know what he wanted to say.

  Rise helped her three warriors hand out pottery cups of tea, then all four withdrew politely to the other side of the room.

  Beacon leaned over to Tempest and whispered, “Well, that explains why a court this important was so anxious to get him back.” She jerked her head to indicate Moon, in case there was any doubt. “Do you think Indigo Cloud knew all along?”

  Tempest flicked a spine in dismissal. “If they had, they would have taken advantage of it before this.”

  Moon turned the warm cup around, looking down into the delicate yellow tea. He just wished they would get on with it already.

  The other warriors leaned over to listen to Tempest and Beacon, and Streak eased forward a little to join the conversation. “If she hasn’t had a clutch since he was born, maybe there’s a problem in their bloodline, and they need him for breeding?”

  Moon rubbed his eyes, conquering the impulse to shift and bite Streak’s throat out. It wasn’t a bad theory; Indigo Cloud had had problems with disease in the turns when they had been under Fell influence, which had caused the court to dwindle to its current size. But it meant nothing good for Moon. It keeps coming back to that. If he wasn’t infertile, he could help them. But if he wasn’t infertile, Indigo Cloud would want him back. If he was infertile, no court would want him.

  “But this is such a big court,” Prize added. “Even if there’s been disease—”

  Scaled wings rustled from the doorway opposite them. Everyone glanced around, startled. Rise pushed hurriedly to her feet and went into the passage to talk to wh
oever stood there. Moon set the cup down before he could spill it. His heart pounded, probably loud enough for everyone in the room to hear.

  But Rise returned alone, her expression tense with agitation. “I’m sorry,” she said, “the queen can’t greet you tonight.”

  Tempest was so floored her spines didn’t even twitch. She said, “Is there some problem? Did we cause offense?”

  It was a violation of the greeting customs, but Rise replied directly to her. “No, not that. It’s just...” It was clear Rise didn’t know what it was. “I’m sorry. I’ll take you to the guest quarters immediately.”

  Tempest hesitated, then got to her feet, gesturing for the others to follow. Moon stood, torn between disappointment and relief at postponing the confrontation.

  Rise led them away, down another passage that wound through several complicated turns. They passed near a section of living quarters, and Arbora and warriors peeked curiously at them from doorways and balconies. Then they climbed a set of winding stone stairs.

  At the top, Rise went through a doorway to a large room that was partly made of stone, partly of dark wood. The ceiling was overgrown with heavy roots, bigger around than barrels, and entwined with vines. More big roots formed pillars, as if supporting the low arches of the ceiling. Instead of hanging bower beds, there were square stone benches scattered about, padded with furs and blankets. The floor was wood patched with stone, with a round hearth standing almost knee-high instead of a basin.

  Rise said, “These are the guest quarters. The passage there leads to a bathing room. I hope you will be comfortable.”

  Tempest nodded graciously. “I’m sure we will.”

  Someone had obviously hurried ahead to ready the rooms; there were warming stones in the hearth and some of the carved stone knobs standing out from the walls had been spelled for light. Moon crossed the room to see it extended far enough to have broad windows opening into the dark space of the central well. There was no sign of any other current or previous occupants, and it didn’t smell like anyone he knew, but then a colony this big must have more than one set of rooms for guests.