As the warriors and Arbora started to stand, Moon got up and walked out to the passage at a reasonable pace, trying to make certain nothing he did could be interpreted as fleeing. It’s a trick, he thought. She just wants you to think that...that she wants you back, like she and Celadon said. He didn’t want to believe that. It was much easier to hate them for leaving him behind all those turns ago. Even if you know it’s completely irrational.
Stone stopped beside him and frowned. “What’s wrong with you now?”
“Nothing.” Moon gritted his teeth.
Stone might have persisted, but Celadon reached them and said, “You weren’t surprised to see Shade, and you didn’t ask who he was.”
She was trying to sound neutral, but Moon caught the hint of worry in her tone. “I talked to him last night.”
“Oh.” Celadon frowned, now clearly worried. “Did he come to see you?”
“No. He came for something he left behind, and I heard him.” She still looked uneasy, and he added, “I didn’t try to kill him, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Now she was just annoyed. “That’s not what I was wondering. It’s just that he’s sheltered. He doesn’t understand how other courts would react to him—”
“He can’t help what he is,” Moon said. Shade was sheltered, but he wasn’t a fool, either. “And I think he does understand.”
He thought she would dismiss that immediately, but after a moment’s thought, she shook her head in regret. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I just want to think he doesn’t realize.”
Behind them, Stone sighed in irritation. “So are we going to this groundling city or not?”
They flew to the west, Moon, Stone, Celadon, and her escort of five warriors.
It was a bright sunny morning, the sky a clear blue only lightly dotted with clouds. Below them, the terrain grew more rocky, and the mountain-trees more isolated, until they stood out as individual islands, their giant canopies spread like clouds. Each tree was surrounded by outcrops and deep narrow gorges, overflowing with heavy green vegetation.
Finally there was only one mountain-tree in sight, a squat one with a canopy shaped more like a bush; Celadon guided them down toward it. They landed in the roots, on a rocky outcrop where a pool had formed to catch the water runoff from the tree’s knothole. Celadon told Moon, “This is the last good water before the plateau, and there’s usually game in this area. Are you hungry?”
“Not yet.” Moon folded his wings and stretched. The wind, with no mountain-trees to break it, was strong and gusty. “I can wait, if the warriors can.” He suspected she had broken their journey here for his benefit, to make certain the delicate consort wasn’t struggling to keep up with her warriors’ pace. He actually felt better than he had since arriving at Opal Night, a state which was probably directly proportional to the speed they were flying away from it, but he wasn’t going to mention that.
As the warriors went to drink from the pool, Celadon said, “Opal Night is not a bad court to live in, you know. Even Onyx’s bloodlines get along with each other.”
Or maybe this was why she had wanted to stop, for a chance to talk him into submitting to Malachite’s will. Moon snorted, deliberately provoking. “Isn’t that unusual for Raksura?”
Celadon refused to be provoked. “As you might imagine, Malachite doesn’t tolerate troublesome behavior. And Onyx may take every opportunity to test Malachite, but she doesn’t let her daughter queens squabble either. That’s the only thing they agree on.”
Moon wondered what life as a fledgling in Opal Night had been like. He thought of the sleek confidence of the young consorts of Onyx’s line, Celadon’s even temper, and Shade’s sunny disposition, and felt a surge of jealousy. Still trying to get an angry reaction out of her, he said, “You didn’t mind being raised with crossbreed Fell?”
She lifted her brows. “You think we weren’t? We were all in the nurseries together from the beginning. Most of us were too young to remember what had happened to the court, or much of the trip to the Reaches, but it was never hidden from us.” Her gaze went to the plains ahead, where the morning light was turning the tall grass into gold waves. “But still...The Arbora who survived the attack on the eastern colony talk about how happy the court was there. We’re not sad now, but it hangs over us, the gaps in our bloodlines.”
Moon had heard enough. He didn’t want to think about being part of that close-knit group of survivors, trusting each other and trusting Malachite, returning to the safety and security of Opal Night’s home colony. He started for the pool.
Celadon squinted upward. Stone hadn’t landed, and was circling overhead. “Is something wrong with the line-grandfather?”
“He doesn’t like to stop.” Moon hopped further down the outcrop, to a spot where the water overflowed the pool and tumbled down the slope into the gorge. He stepped onto a ledge where he could catch the spray, and cupped his hands for a drink. The water tasted of rock and moss.
When he stepped away from the fall, he immediately scented something musky and animal; against the mountain-tree’s sweet scent, it stood out like a sharp punch to the nose. An instant later he spotted it: a dark gray bipedal shape, armor-plated like a Tath but with a wide triangular head. It crept up a ridge of the outcrop, headed toward the warriors who were crouched at the edge of the pool, about forty paces above. They were facing away and hadn’t noticed it yet.
Moon couldn’t tell what its intent was; it couldn’t mean to take on all of them. But it was better to drive it off before it got any closer. He crouched and leapt, landed on the rock above it, flared his spines and wings. It reared back, startled, but bared its impressive rows of teeth threateningly. Moon showed it his larger and sharper set of fangs.
It growled to save face, and retreated rapidly back down the slope. It disappeared into the jungle filling the gorge, ferny branches shaking to betray its path. Moon relaxed and glanced around to see Celadon sat on the ledge next to the fall, watching him. The warriors had noticed the altercation, and all of them had flattened spines from embarrassment.
Celadon said, “They live in the bottom of the gorges around the trees in this area.” She tilted her head toward the warriors. “Just because they haven’t bothered us before is no reason not to be careful. A consort won’t always be around to save you.”
Moon wasn’t sure if she was mocking him or not. It felt like she was mocking him. Remembering Tempest’s reaction to his attempt to help her warrior on the way to Opal Night, he thought, Next time I’ll just let them be eaten. He climbed around the outcrop, then jumped off and flapped until he caught the wind.
Rising up to Stone’s level, he circled with him until Celadon and the warriors joined them again.
By late afternoon, the ground had started to rise toward the mountainous plateau that had been dominating the horizon for some time. As they drew closer, the shapes above it gradually resolved into the outlines of flying islands, rocky uneven clumps dripping with greenery. It was odd to see so many in one spot. The islands tended to move with the wind, or perhaps they followed the same lines of force that the flying boats used to travel; Moon wondered if the plateau somehow attracted them.
Closer, he realized the lines of the plateau weren’t entirely natural. A great figure had been carved out of the side, into the shape of the body of a groundling seated on a throne. The statue was huge, taking up half the side of the plateau. The proportions were distorted, making the body wider than it was tall, and a large section of the head was missing, but it was still an impressive sight.
And so was the city built into it. The statue’s chest and stomach, and the cliff faces to either side, had been carved out with balconies, windows, stairways, open galleries. The rock had been shaped into columns, pediments, as if these were the façades of buildings standing along a street instead of hanging out over empty air.
The plateau’s broad slopes were riddled with steep gorges, with the gleaming silver bands of streams winding along the bot
toms, lined by lush foliage. The streams all fed into a large lake covering the statue’s feet. Along its banks, regular rows of greenery and trees revealed planting beds and orchards. Moon didn’t see any roads, just the occasional meandering pathway, and at first he didn’t see how the inhabitants approached their city.
Then he caught movement in the air. Below and to the right, slowly fighting the wind along the top of the plateau, was a flying boat. But it was so different from the others Moon had seen that it didn’t deserve the name. A huge bronze-colored air-filled bladder sat atop the blocky wooden shape of the boat, with the rigging curving up and around it. Aborted wings and fins made of taut fabric stuck out from various spots, attached to the ropes of the rigging so they could be moved for steering. Moon had never seen a more inefficient way of traveling through the air.
Banking close to it, Moon realized that the bladder seemed to be supporting the boat, not the other way around. That’s crazy. The other flying boats stayed aloft by using a fragment of the rock found at the heart of flying islands, that allowed them to float along the waves of invisible force that crossed the Three Worlds. This seemed like a much more difficult method.
The wooden cabin beneath the bladder was a complicated arrangement, with rounded bulges and open balconies, though no groundlings were visible. It had oval windows set with clear crystal, and he thought he could see movement within, but between the sun’s reflection and the distortion of the crystal, he couldn’t make out any detail.
Celadon dropped back even with him, calling out, “Don’t get too close! It worries them.”
He could imagine, as fragile as the thing looked. Moon followed her as she tipped her wings and slid away across the wind toward the statue-city.
Circling above the lake with Celadon, Stone, and the others, he thought it must be a very difficult place for ground predators or other groundling tribes to attack. Underground predators couldn’t tunnel through rock and usually avoided water. But it would be easy prey for the Fell.
Several more of the flying bladder-boats were docked atop the large flat ledge that formed the statue’s lap. They weren’t the only flying craft; contraptions with much smaller air bladders and platforms barely big enough for a groundling to stand in made their way up and down the cliff face, some secured by ropes to balconies or pillars.
Moon followed Celadon as she banked down and they headed for the bladder-boat ledge.
Celadon dropped down to light on the open space in the center. Moon followed her, and furled his wings to leave room for the others. The warriors held off, waiting for Stone to land and shift before they touched down. Moon shifted to groundling too. The cool breeze pulled at his hair and clothes and made a whispering sound as it streamed across the bladders of the tethered boats. The ledge was paved with green marble, facing three big archways cut into the rock of the statue’s chest, each bracketed with tall columns carved into spirals.
Inside the archways, several groundlings gathered, presumably to greet the visitors. Moon had wondered if they were climbers or diggers, and that was why they had built their city into the statue and the cliff. But the people peering out at them from between the columns didn’t have the claws or the broad strong shoulders of natural tunnel-builders. They were tall and willowy, with very pale skin tinged with gray, at least on their faces and hands; the rest of their bodies were bundled up in long brocaded coats. They had elongated eyes, high foreheads with prominent brows, and dark or silver-gray hair arranged in elaborate loops.
A woman came forward hurriedly, dressed in a silky coat in brilliant greens and blues. Stepping out from between the columns, she said, “Celadon, please come in out of the wind.” She was speaking Kedaic, one of the common trade languages in the Three Worlds.
“Thank you, Ennia.” Celadon glanced back to make sure the warriors had all shifted to groundling and followed the woman past the columns.
The archways opened into a high pillared hall, a market or gathering area. A painted tile fountain in the center shot water up toward the domed ceiling. Merchant stalls were scattered around the room, and Moon spotted bolts of fabric, colored glassware, and all sorts of metal trinkets. There were men and women everywhere, but they seemed to be more interested in talking in groups and staring at the Raksura than looking at the goods on display. Their attention was drawn first by Celadon’s brightly colored scales, and then by the unfamiliar appearance of Moon and Stone and the warriors. They seemed curious but not afraid.
Moon was fairly sure the Fell would change that.
Ennia said to Celadon, “One of our trading aircraft has just come back from a voyage to the far west. The cargo is being dispersed and sold, and those that speculated on its success have come to hear news of it.”
Celadon pretended interest as if that made sense to her, though Moon doubted it did. Raksura had little concept of the currencies that larger groundling settlements used for their trade.
Ennia led them to the far end of the big hall, then up a wide staircase to a broad gallery. Two groundlings waiting there slid open the heavy door at the top of the steps.
It led into a large sitting room. A bronze lamp with multiple rings hung overhead, the light coming from little glowing glass globes suspended from the metal loops. Benches padded with dark blue cushions and delicate bronze slope-backed chairs were grouped in a loose circle on a round thickly-woven carpet. Moon scented musky perfumes and the wood smoke overlaying rock and water and metal.
A small group of groundlings trailed in with them, and two slid the heavy bronze doors closed, shutting off the stairway and the noise from the market. Moon tried not to find that threatening, reminding himself that Celadon had been here before. But a lifetime of concealing what he was had made him extremely wary of shifting in front of groundlings, especially when they were staring at him like these people were.
Speaking Kedaic like their hosts, Celadon said, “Ennia, this is my...” She had to fumble for the right word. “My brother, Moon. And Stone, who is an important elder of the court of Indigo Cloud.”
Ennia smiled and sank gracefully into a chair. “My greetings to you. Please, sit. You did not tell us you had a brother, Celadon.”
Though for Raksura that was an incredibly inane statement, Celadon managed not to react. She said, “He has just come to visit us,” and took a seat on a bench across from Ennia. Celadon caught Moon’s eye and nodded for him to sit next to her. Raksuran etiquette dictated consorts sit behind queens at a formal visit, but he thought Celadon was wise to follow the groundlings’ customs. It would make them seem less different, and Moon felt they could use all the help they could get.
Three of the other groundlings, two men and an older woman, took seats as well though, unlike Ennia, they kept well back from the Raksura. Under the coats they all wore heavy garments, pants, long shirts and vests, all in rich colors, in fabrics that were either warm knits or heavy brocades. There didn’t seem to be much extra fat or meat on their skinny bodies, and they must need the heavy clothes against the wind and the constant cool of the rock walls. With this closer view of them, Moon realized it wasn’t just their eyes that were elongated; their heads, the long bones of arms and legs, their hands were all attenuated, even compared to Aeriat Raksura.
The warriors settled on a bench and the floor a few paces behind Moon and Celadon, jostling each other a little but not speaking. Stone ignored the whole group, wandering the perimeter of the room, apparently looking at the painted panels covering the walls, much to the consternation of the groundlings.
Moon felt the back of his neck prickle uneasily. Stone generally liked groundlings and sought them out on his travels for news and company. He had always been polite to every one Moon had ever seen him interact with. He tasted the air, trying not to be obvious about it.
Ennia watched Stone, her dark brows drawn together, then gave Celadon a bemused smile. Celadon was too self-possessed to react or to attempt to explain or excuse eccentric line-grandfathers to Ennia. After a moment
, Ennia gave in and said, “I’ve sent someone for my father, so he should be here shortly. He’s always very pleased by your visits.”
“I am anxious to speak with him again,” Celadon said easily. “And I wanted my brother to see your city, and to meet and speak with you.”
“I see.” Ennia regarded Moon indulgently. “I’m sure our city must seem very strange to you. From my conversations with your sister, I know that you live very differently from we ‘groundlings.’”
“I’ve lived in groundling cities before,” Moon said. There was a faint startled stir from the warriors, who were probably not used to young consorts who spoke up in company, let alone groundling company. But the warriors would just have to get used to it; Moon was trying not to be impatient, but when Celadon finally broached the topic of the Fell, he wanted Ennia to realize he knew what he was talking about.
“Oh.” Ennia lifted her brows, considerably taken aback. “I had the impression your people were...reclusive.”
Moon wondered what word she had originally chosen and discarded. Her friends, family, servants, whatever they were, didn’t have as much control over their composure, and they were uneasily watching the Raksura like people trapped in an enclosed space with possibly vicious animals. Stone, who had continued his examination of the artwork and was behind them now at the far side of the room, seemed to make them particularly nervous. Moon said, “I’ve traveled more widely than most Raksura.”
Ennia leaned forward, interested. “You speak Kedashi very well.”
“It’s called Kedaic in the east.” Moon suspected Kedashi was a local variation. It would explain Ennia’s somewhat odd pronunciations. He thought about mentioning that in Kish, the territory where the language was most spoken, it was considered extremely rude to comment on anyone’s proficiency of speech, but he didn’t want to put them at odds, no matter how condescending Ennia was.