The Serpent Sea

Chapter Eleven

The dinner was odd, though not as fraught for Moon as the one at Emerald Twilight.

It was held in a large room a few levels above the guest quarters. Giant carved images of dour blue-pearl groundlings stared down from the walls, all more than thirty paces high, some forming columns supporting the arched ceiling. Their expressions gave Moon the impression that was he was being watched with disapproval, but he felt like that a lot, so it was probably just him. There was a small pool with a fountain at one end of the room for show, not for drinking or swimming. The large hearth at the other end was big enough to roast a bando-hopper. Like the one down near the guest rooms, it was unlit.

For the dinner, polished stone benches were arranged around a low marble-topped table at the hearth end of the room. They were draped with fine linen and softened with brocaded cushions. The heavy furniture wasn’t fastened to the floor, but Moon noticed the table had ridges carved in it to help keep the plates and cups from sliding. Efficient servants placed the food on the table. Unlike the party in the other tower Moon had spied on, Ardan apparently only hired young male blue-pearl groundlings.

Negal and his people were the only other guests, sitting uncomfortably around on the benches. From remarks Moon overheard from the servants, Ardan had a family stashed away somewhere in the tower. He just didn’t let them mix with his “guests.”

As the food was served, Ardan spoke with Negal, mostly about the cities along the coast that Negal’s ship had visited. The other three just sat there and ate mostly in silence, looking and acting like captives, grim and suspicious. Negal spoke easily enough, but his eyes were weary, as if the conversation was just another facet of his captivity. Moon told himself it was foolish to feel sorry for them. So they say they were tricked into going to the Reaches. They had still helped loot the colony tree.

The food was far better than what had been on offer at the market. There were several unfamiliar varieties of preserved fruit, different types of fish and shellfish cooked in various sauces, and sweet breads that had to be almost as expensive as the fruit, since the grain would all have to be shipped in. Moon didn’t have to force himself to eat. It was all so good he could have finished everything on the table, but he managed to confine himself to only two servings. The wine they had been provided with had no effect on him, but he drank it anyway.

As the meal came to an end, Ardan toyed with his goblet and said, “I’ve invited other guests, who should be arriving soon.” The others were sitting upright on the benches; Moon took a cue from Ardan and lounged back on the cushions with his wine goblet. It was easier to pretend to be relaxed that way. His apparent ease made Esom stare at him in annoyance.

“Showing us off again?” Karsis said to Ardan, affecting boredom in a deliberate way. She jerked her head toward Moon. “Or your new acquisition?”

“My guests are all seekers of knowledge,” Ardan answered mildly. “But I’m afraid they’re more interested in my collections than in intellectual discourse.” Esom snorted in derision, and was ignored. Then Ardan turned to Moon, and asked, “How did you come to be on your expedition to the forest?”

Good question, Moon thought. “The Islanders were hiring hands. I needed the work.”

“The Golden Islands are not your home, then?”

The Islanders were all like Niran, smaller people, with golden skin and white hair like silken floss. Niran had said the maps aboard the Valendera didn’t range this far, but Ardan might know more about the eastern region than he pretended. “No. I was working on a Yellow Sea trading barge that came to port there. The expedition offered better pay.”

“But more danger.”

Moon shrugged. “They didn’t explain that part.”

Ardan chuckled indulgently. “Sometimes a little deception furthers the course of scholarly pursuits.”

Karsis stared, Esom and Orlis exchanged an incredulous look, and even Negal’s stoic expression turned sardonic. Apparently oblivious, Ardan asked Moon, “Where do you come from?”

“The east, near the gulf of Abascene.” This was, technically, true, and Abascene had the extra benefit of being even further from here than the Yellow Sea. “The place we were living was destroyed by Fell, turns ago. I left with the other refugees and I’ve been traveling ever since.” This wasn’t quite as true but Moon had lived in enough places that had been destroyed by the Fell to supply convincing details, if he needed to.

Ardan frowned in thought, as if honestly interested. That wasn’t something Moon had expected. Ardan said, “I’ve heard of the Fell, but never seen one.”

“You’re lucky.” Moon decided it was time he asked a question in return. “Why did you go to the Reaches?”

Ardan lifted his brows as if amused by Moon’s presumption. Moon suspected the conversations with Negal and the others tended to be onesided. Ardan answered, “I was curious. I had heard intriguing things about the area.”

Esom said abruptly, “What are the Fell?”

Moon felt his jaw tighten; a dramatic change of subject was exactly what he didn’t need. Ardan gestured for him to answer, and he said, reluctantly, “They’re shapeshifters that travel in large flights. They eat people and burn cities because they enjoy it.” He had everyone’s attention; even Karsis had lost her cynical expression. “Some are as big as the sea monster hanging down in the first floor hall. Others are smaller than you. When they shift, they look like ordinary groundlings. One could walk through the streets of this city and no one would know.”

“Like the Raksura,” Karsis said.

Moon leaned back against the cushion and took a drink of wine, just in case he didn’t have his expression as under control as he thought. If the Raksura had had anything but a distant kinship with the Fell, the leviathan’s inhabitants would have long since found out about it.

“Not at all.” Ardan turned to her, his expression serious. “The Fell are thieves, predators, parasites. They build nothing, make nothing, grow nothing, have no art, no written language. They loot their victims’ habitations for everything they need. You saw the artwork in the Raksuran hive. Creatures who could create such as that have no need to steal.”

Karsis sat back, thwarted from starting an argument. Negal said, wryly, “Then it’s a pity your men destroyed some of the images, removing the inlay.”

“Not many.” Ardan eyed him. “And they were punished.”

Karsis took a sharp breath, Esom and Negal looked grim. Orlis set the pastry he had been nibbling down on his plate, as if the memory had taken away his appetite.

Moon took it that the punishment had been extreme and effective. He was surprised the hunters hadn’t found more bodies. But at least they were back on the right subject. “I take it you weren’t interested in the gems and metal.” He glanced around, pointedly indicating the room and the wealth it represented.

“No, you’re quite correct, I already have more of that than I need.” Ardan lifted his goblet and studied the purple-tinted glass pensively. “I am the youngest magister in the city. I took my father’s place when he died, several turns ago. The competition between myself and the others, as well as our duty to see to the city’s survival, drove me to seek knowledge and avenues to greater power.”

Yes. Moon held his breath. If Ardan would elaborate, mention the seed, if Moon could ask to see it…

Then Ardan set his goblet aside and glanced up as Bialin approached the table. “Ah, I believe my other guests have arrived.”

The other guests turned out to be a large group of wealthy local groundlings and their servants and hangers-on. The big chamber rapidly became well-occupied.

They seemed to be in a contest to outdo each other with the richness of their clothes. There were silks in every color, sheer gauzes, black and gold brocades. There were also some traders, all looking much more prosperous than the ones who had come to sell trinkets today. There was apparently nothing else to do in this city in the evening except go to parties in the big towers or drug yourself unconscious in the wine and smoke bars.

Servants put out more food and drink, but people didn’t sit to eat. Instead, they walked around to mingle and talk. Moon was able to fade into the background as the crowd grew, watching and being watched in turn.

There didn’t seem to be much to discover. The conversations Ardan had were all brief, all apparently casual. The point of all this seemed to be showing his wealth off to the other groundlings. At the moment Ardan stood with a richly dressed old man, surrounded by a small audience of lower-ranking groundlings. Ardan was at ease, as usual, but the old man simmered with anger.

“Trader Niran.”

Moon glanced around even before he remembered that was supposed to be him, which was why he had taken the name of someone he knew. It was Bialin, who motioned urgently for him to follow. “The Magister would like to speak with you.”

“Who’s that with him?” Moon asked.

Bialin pressed his lips together in dissatisfaction at Moon’s lack of instant obedience, but answered, “Lethen, another magister.”

Moon followed Bialin over to the group. Unlike Ardan, Lethen was ruinously old. The pearly surface of his skull was dulled and worn, disturbingly like raw bone. Deep lines were etched around his mouth and eyes, and his blue skin had an unhealthy, pale tinge. He was dressed in blue and gold brocade, and leaned on an ornate ivory cane. He had blue gems somehow mounted in the age-yellowed base of his skull cap. Judging by his pinched expression, the process had been painful.

As Moon and Bialin arrived, Ardan said to Lethen, “Trader Niran has brought me word of another site of interest.” He nodded to Moon. “Show him the bracelet, if you would.”

Moon pulled the cuff of his shirt up and held out his arm. The red gold gleamed on the entwined serpentine forms.

Lethen leaned in to look and his hands tightened on his cane. His nails were like gray horn against his lined blue skin. He said, tightly, “I see.”

There was an undercurrent here, a strong one. Lethen wants Raksuran treasure? Or he knows about the seeds and wants one? Moon wondered, and watched Lethen regard Ardan with a bitterness bordering on hate. Ardan definitely had some hold over him. Just to stir the pot a little, Moon said, “Do you want me to tell him what I found in the ruin?”

Ardan flicked him a look, part surprise and part amusement. “Not necessary.” He gave Moon an ironic nod. “You may go.”

Tugging his sleeve down, Moon wandered away, circled the nearest statue-pillar, and stopped just within earshot. He was mildly surprised to find Karsis already there, eavesdropping. She glared at him, not very pleased to be caught.

Sounding as if it was a wonderful joke, Ardan was saying to Lethen, “So, will you mount your own expedition to the coast?”

Lethen snapped, “I want you to allow another trading clan access to our harbor.”

“Your wants are immaterial.” Ardan was clearly bored with the change of subject. “There’s no need.”

“There is need. My artisans can’t produce anything when they can’t get raw materials.”

The boredom was turning into annoyance. “I’ll consider it.”

“There’s no need to keep this stranglehold—” Ardan was already walking away, stubbornly pursued by Lethen.

Karsis let out a frustrated breath. “Well, that was pointless.” She flicked a grim glance at Moon. “Eavesdropping makes me feel like I’m at least trying to do something.”

“Ardan controls the traders?” Enad had said something about trade rights, that things would be better if the magisters gave them to more traders.

“Most of them. He controls their ability to find the island,” Karsis corrected, and stepped out to watch Ardan move away. Moon thought she was being far too obvious about it. She must not do much hunting on her people’s isolated plateau. “The leviathan moves at random. The traders all have magical tokens that allow them to find it again. They have a monopoly, and can charge whatever they like for their goods and foodstuffs.”

“What about the other magisters?” Moon followed her. Ardan headed toward the far end of the room, past the pool and the fountain, where a set of stairs went up to a gallery along the back wall. There was an archway up there, surrounded by elaborate scrollwork carving, an entrance to another grand hall. Guards were posted, but Moon had assumed they were there to keep Ardan’s involuntary guests from slipping away.

“Several of them have died off from old age, from what we’ve heard. Ardan is the most powerful.” Karsis sounded bitter about it. “He seems to be instrumental in keeping the beast from sinking, or shaking the city off.”

“But he can’t put it to sleep again, or send it back to the coast of Emriat-terrene.”

Karsis made a faint derisive noise. “Why would he bother? He has everything here just as he likes.”

Ardan climbed the stairs to the gallery and vanished through the archway. “What’s up there?”

She sighed. “Another exhibit hall full of his acquisitions. Those are apparently more precious to him than the ones downstairs.” Her tone turned contemptuous. “I suppose you’ll be helping him to add to it with this ruin of yours.” She hesitated. “He will kill you, you know.”

Moon’s attention was on that tempting archway, so carefully guarded. He turned to her abruptly. “Is that where he keeps the seed? The wooden thing you found?” His expression must have been too intense because she fell back a step.

Sounding uncertain for once, she said, “I don’t know where he keeps it.” She recovered quickly and lifted her chin. “Why do you want to know?”

Yes, why do you want to know? Idiot. He said, “I wanted to see it, make sure it’s the same as what we found in the ruin.”

“I see.” She studied him a moment. “What do you know about these seeds?”

At that point, Esom arrived, saving Moon from an answer that probably would have been suspiciously inadequate. Esom took Karsis’ arm firmly and said, “Karsis, Negal needs to speak to you.”

“What? Oh—” Esom tugged and Karsis went reluctantly. Moon took the opportunity to vanish into the crowd. He had some planning to do.

Ardan’s withdrawal must have been a signal, because it wasn’t much later in the evening when the invited guests began to leave, and Bialin and his guards herded Moon and Negal’s group back down to their quarters. As the stairwell doors were securely locked behind them, Negal turned to Moon and said, low-voiced, “Guards walk the halls at odd intervals. We are not locked in our rooms, but movement is discouraged.”

That was good to know, and unexpectedly generous of Negal. Moon didn’t want to feel like he owed these people anything, but he managed to thank Negal without irony.

Orlis and Karsis were already moving away down the hall, both seeming tired and dispirited. But as Negal went to join them, Esom stopped Moon and said, with stiff aggression, “And in case you found yourself curious, Karsis sleeps in my room.”

Moon had no idea why he was being given this information. Hoping to discourage further disclosures, he said, deadpan, “That’s nice for you.”

Esom stiffened even further. Through gritted teeth, he said, “She’s my sister.”

It occurred to Moon, belatedly, that Esom was trying to warn him off approaching Karsis for sex. Groundlings, Moon thought in sour disgust. It must have shown on his face, because Esom’s expression turned defensive and confused. Moon just walked away toward his room.

He closed the door and sat down on the bed, wincing at the faint odor of scent-concealing oils that came up from the blankets. After all the smothering perfumes upstairs, his sense of smell was next to useless. He pulled his boots off, lay down, and waited.

Listening to the groundlings’ conversations upstairs had netted a little more information. Ardan was more powerful than Moon had thought, and everyone there had been afraid of him, hating him, or courting him, or a combination of all three. Moon would have thought a magister’s business was to make magic, but Ardan seemed intimately concerned with the working of the city and its trade concerns.

After a time, he heard the others stop moving around. Various doors shut. He hadn’t noticed earlier how dead the tower was to sound; he could be the only one alive in it. He thought of the colony tree, how despite its size you could feel it move and breathe and rustle, sense the faint presence of all the smaller lives inside it. Stop it, he told himself, annoyed. He refused to be sick with longing for a place he had barely spent two nights in.

Sometime later, out in the foyer, the heavy door to the stairwell opened, someone walked through, and the door was closed and locked again. Quiet footsteps moved away down the hall. That was the guard who patrolled the public rooms on this level. There had been no click of a key, so another guard in the stairwell had unlocked and locked the door for him. But Moon wasn’t planning to use the stairs.

Moon listened to the guard make several slow circuits of the level. Finally the man’s steps returned to the stairwell door, there was a quiet knock, and the door opened and closed again. Presumably the guard wouldn’t return for a while. Moon shoved off the bed and reached the door. He eased it open silently, stepped into the corridor, and pulled it shut behind him. The corridor lights had been turned down until they gave off only a dim light and a faint trace of mist. Shifting in a blur of motion, he bounded down the corridor. He kept his claws carefully sheathed so they wouldn’t click against the tile and betray him.

The first thing he did was rapidly search the rest of this level. He found two other corridors, both with closed doors. By the sound of breathing, only three rooms were occupied. He couldn’t tell which two held Negal and Orlis, but a low whispered conversation marked the one with Esom and Karsis. There were two other open sitting areas, and a larger room with a cold bathing pool, but no other doorways to the stairwell, and no windows.

He whipped back through the door into the big common room. The vapor-lights here were still bright, lighting the empty room and making him feel exposed to the entire tower. Ignoring the sensation, he went to the hearth, stepped over the rim, hooked his claws into the mortar between the sooty stones, and wriggled up into the chimney.

Climbing the dark shaft, he peered upward. His eyes adjusted quickly, but there wasn’t much to see. The chimney wasn’t straight and shunted sideways at intervals to work its way up through the tower. He passed openings for several other connected shafts, too narrow for even a slender Raksura to climb down. At least it was a sign that all the hearths in this side of the tower connected to this central shaft.

When he was high enough to be above the big meeting room, he hit a junction with another large shaft. Hah, he thought, quietly satisfied at guessing right, and climbed headfirst down it.

He reached the bottom, where it opened into the hearth near the far end of the large chamber. He hung his head down and peered cautiously out, every nerve alert.

The vapor-lights had been turned so low they were nearly out, and the place seemed even more cavernous, the statue-pillars looming life-like in the shadows. He tasted the air and caught lingering scents of perfume, stale food, and wine. Nothing moved, and it was almost unnervingly silent.

He slid out of the chimney and stepped down off the big empty hearth, lifting his spines a little to dislodge some of the soot. Ghosting across the marble floor, he bypassed the stairs to jump up to the railing of the gallery.

The hall beyond the archway was smaller than the one down on the second level of the tower, with no alcoves. Ardan’s acquisitions hung on the walls or stood on plinths. It was all artwork, wall carvings, pieces of sculpture, the gems and metal glinting faintly in the dim light. Moon walked through rapidly, reached the end, then turned back. He forced himself to move slowly, to look at each display more closely. It has to be here. It wasn’t sitting by itself on a plinth, but it might be stuck in with one of the other objects.

He stopped abruptly as the skin under his spines prickled with unease; he wasn’t alone in here anymore. He turned, slowly.

Barely ten paces away a mist hung in the air, and something formed rapidly inside it.

Moon snarled under his breath. He had forgotten Ardan’s magic. Groundling guards were probably posted in any area where the inhabitants of the tower might move around during the night. In the chambers that were supposed to be empty, the guards could be more deadly. The mottled green shape that emerged from the mist stood almost as tall as Moon. He could see the outline of long arms and clawed hands, but no head. That could be a problem, he thought, and crouched to spring.

It snapped into solid form, a bulbous muscular body with barely a lump for the head. Its eyes were small, yellow, and mean. Then a huge mouth opened, more than half the width of the body, and displayed an impressive array of yellow fangs. It surged forward and Moon sprang to meet it.

As it reached for him he grabbed its arm, swung up and slashed its face with his feet and free hand, then leapt away. Quicker than thought, it slapped him out of the air.

Moon bounced off the stone floor, then caught a blow to the head that knocked him back into a plinth. The creature charged toward him again, its goal apparently to grab him and stuff him into its huge mouth. Scrambling back, he thought, I don’t have time for this, and bolted out through the archway to the gallery. Instead of going over the balustrade, he jumped straight up in the air. As the creature barreled out after him, he dropped and landed on its back. It roared, loud enough to deafen him, and reached back to claw at his head. Moon sunk all four sets of his own claws into the creature’s rubbery flesh and bit down on the back of its lumpy head.

Still roaring, it staggered forward and tumbled over the rail. It hit the floor first and rolled, but Moon held on with grim determination. Even as it crushed him between its back and the floor, he kept his jaws clamped down. Its tough hide gave way abruptly and he got a mouth full of foul blood. The thing tasted terrible, like rot and mold. It bucked, thrashed, and finally went limp. Moon shoved it off him and staggered upright. He spat out blood, stumbled to the fountain, and scooped up a double handful of water to scrub the acrid stuff off his face. Then he looked up at the gallery.

Three—no, four more misty shapes formed in the air. The creature’s death must have triggered the appearance of reinforcements. Damn things, how many does Ardan have? He could stay here and take them all on, until the groundling guards and Ardan showed up. It wouldn’t buy him any time to look for the seed. He turned back for the hearth and crossed the floor in long bounds.

A groundling couldn’t have killed that creature. If Moon got down to the guest quarters again and shifted, he might be able to bluff this out. They wouldn’t know they were looking for a Raksura. He hoped.

He reached the hearth, scrambled up into the chimney, and climbed rapidly back to the central shaft. At the junction he hesitated. He could keep going up until he found the outlet to the outside, if it was large enough to get through, if it wasn’t sealed by the barrier that protected the outside of the tower. No, he had to take the chance to stay and keep looking for the seed.

He climbed down quickly and quietly until he heard a scrabbling noise, claws scratching against stone, somewhere above him. Moon continued to climb, and tasted the air as he went, but the stink from the creature’s hide still clung to his scales and he couldn’t scent anything. He glanced down and saw he didn’t have far to go. Faint light marked the opening into the guest-level hearth perhaps twenty paces below him.

Then he heard a bang and a loud crack, and looked up to see a dark shape descending rapidly toward him. One of the creatures was in the shaft. Moon gasped a curse and dropped. He plunged down and caught himself just at the bottom of the chimney.

As he stood in the hearth, he saw the creature stop abruptly, still some distance above him. The stupid thing is stuck, he thought incredulously. And it was cutting off any chance of retreat up through the shaft. Hissing in frustration, he ducked to climb down out of the hearth basin.

At just that moment he heard voices and footsteps, about to turn through the door into the common room. By instinct Moon shifted. But when his claws vanished, he lost his footing on the edge of the hearth and tumbled to the floor.

Esom and Karsis stepped into the doorway just in time to see Moon roll across the tile. They stopped, staring. Esom demanded, “What are you doing?”

“Nothing.” Moon sat up on one elbow and glanced warily back at the hearth. A little soot trickled down, but no creature appeared. It must be jammed tightly in the shaft.

“Were you—” Karsis looked at the hearth, then at Moon, obviously taking in the soot stains on his clothes and hands. At least his face wasn’t covered with monster blood, though there had to be flecks of it all over him. He had been counting on a chance to thoroughly clean off his scales in his room before he shifted. She shook her head in disbelief at her own theory. “You couldn’t have been—”

“What do you mean, nothing?” Esom persisted. “Why were you standing on the—”

Moon pushed to his feet, half-ready to answer Esom’s question by hitting him in the head. Then far down the hall the stairwell door crashed open. He heard shouts and footsteps as the guards swarmed in. That’s that, Moon thought. He couldn’t retreat up the chimney, and there was no other way out of this level. He should have tried to go up and out when he had the chance. He said, quietly, “Get away from me.”

“What?” Esom blinked in confusion but Karsis took his arm and tugged him back.

Several guards burst into the room, their javelins and small crossbow weapons held ready. They all looked angry, and the anger had an even more dangerous tinge of fear. “Was it here? Did you see it?” one shouted. Others raced by in the hall toward the other guest quarters.

“See what?” Esom said, sounding affronted. “We’ve been locked up here. Of course we didn’t see anything!”

Then the guards hastily made way and Ardan walked into the room. Moon had expected him to be angry, but Ardan’s expression was grimly pleased. The realization was like a dash of icy water. He suspected all along, Moon thought, eyes narrowed. And now he knows.

Watching Moon carefully, Ardan said, “So you’ve been exploring. I wonder why.”

Karsis said quickly, “No, he was in his room, we went there to speak to him. We came out here to talk—”

“Quiet.” Ardan didn’t spare her a glance.

Moon bared his teeth in something that might possibly be interpreted as a smile. “You don’t look surprised.”

“Let’s say I was hopeful.” Ardan’s smile was dry. “I have someone I’d like you to meet.”

Another groundling came down the hall, light footsteps at a deliberate pace. The guards stirred uneasily.

“It’s him,” Esom muttered and glanced toward the door in fearful anticipation. “That’s all we need.”

Karsis said, low-voiced, to Moon, “Watch out, he’s dangerous. He’s not what he seems—”

Moon stopped listening when the newcomer stepped into the doorway. He was younger than Moon, with a slim build, light bronze skin, and dark hair, sharp features. He wore a loose light shirt and dark brown pants of the local fishskin cloth, but his feet were bare.

Despite it all, Moon had a moment of doubt. Then their eyes met and he knew for certain. Well, that does explain a lot, he thought, suddenly cold with fury. How Ardan had found the tree, how he had known about the seed. He hadn’t even needed a flying ship to get inside the colony tree’s high knothole entrance.

The man turned to Ardan, fury twisting his handsome features. “Why didn’t you tell me about this? Were you planning to play us off each other? Get rid of me?”

Ardan turned to him in fond exasperation. “Of course not. I wasn’t certain what he was. I wanted to be sure before I told you.” Of course Ardan had suspected Moon all along; with a live Raksura in groundling form at hand to compare him to, he could hardly help but be suspicious. Add to that Moon’s knowledge of the mysterious ruin, his questions about the seed. Ardan looked at Moon. “This is Rift, my friend and guide.” He managed the Raksuran pronunciation without difficulty. “I assume your name is not Niran.”

“It’s Moon, of the Indigo Cloud Court.” Karsis and Esom stared at him, Karsis in astonished realization and Esom in growing horror. “That’s the colony tree you stole the seed from.”

Rift twitched, and hissed. “You’re lying. It was empty. It was a dead court.”

“It’s not empty now,” Moon said. “You led him to the seed, you know what that means.”

Ardan watched them with a narrow, speculative gaze. He said, “Rift, calm yourself. I thought you would be pleased, to have another member of your race here.”

Moon snorted. Ardan obviously didn’t know as much about Raksura as he thought.

Rift grimaced in disgust at Ardan. He shifted, his groundling body vanishing in a dark mist, resolving into a warrior with dark green scales. He flared out his spines, and snarled in Raksuran, “You’re lying. That colony tree was abandoned. I don’t know what you want here, but if you want to live, go away. Now.”

Moon barred his teeth. He thinks he’s looking at another warrior. In groundling form, it was hard to tell young consorts from male warriors. Until it was too late. Moon said, “Come and get me.”

Rift sprang toward him. Moon shifted, flared his spines out, and lunged forward. They grappled, tumbled across the room, slammed down onto a bench, bounced off a pillar supporting the chimney. Moon was bigger, stronger, and much more angry. He barely felt the smaller warrior’s claws.

Around them, groundlings shouted and fled. Rift’s growls went up in pitch as he realized he was overmatched. Wrenching free, Rift tried to bolt. Moon caught him again and flung him toward the knot of guards in the opposite doorway. They scattered as the warrior slammed through them. Claws scraping the floor, Rift scrambled away down the corridor. Moon jumped over two fallen guards, bounced off the ceiling, and pelted after him. Moon was peripherally aware of running, shouting, confusion, but the only thing he could see was Rift.

Rift slammed through an archway into another small sitting room just as Moon caught him. He grabbed Rift’s spines and yanked him around. Rift clawed for Moon’s eyes but Moon slammed him down to the floor. Kneeling on the warrior’s chest, he seized him by the throat. Then Rift croaked, “Don’t. Please.”

Moon, just about to tighten his grip and rip Rift’s throat out, growled in pure frustration. He was breathing hard, his skin stinging from scratches on his hands, arms, and chest that had penetrated his scales. Rift’s eyes pleaded, and Moon couldn’t kill him. “Where’s the seed?”

He gasped, “I don’t know. He took it away, out of the tower— Watch out!”

Moon twisted in time to see a guard in the doorway, lifting his little crossbow. Moon snapped out his right wing in a sharp punch. He struck the man in the chest with the tip and flung him backward.

Taking advantage of the moment of distraction, Rift said quickly, “I’ll show you the way out, through the bottom of the tower. The barrier stops at the ground.”

Shouts and crashing echoed from up the corridor. Ardan shouted, “Where are they?”

“You swear it’s not here,” Moon hissed.

“I swear.” Rift’s eyes burned with sincerity. “He took it away somewhere.”

There wasn’t much of a choice. Moon let Rift go and rolled to his feet. More guards rushed the door, and Moon slammed through them, knocking them sprawling. Rift jumped over his head, clung to the ceiling, then leapt down the hall. Moon tore after him and rounded the corner just as a chorus of crossbow bolts clattered against the stone wall.

He caught up with Rift in the foyer as three of the bulbous guardcreatures barreled in through the stairwell doorway. Rift threw himself at the first, hands and feet ripping at its face. The other two tried to crowd past. Moon jumped and landed on top of the first one’s head. He slashed at the clawed hands that reached for him and dove forward, over their heads and out the doorway. Out in the stairwell, he whipped around and ripped open the back of the one still trapped in the door. All three creatures roared. Ardan’s groundling guards, stuck in the foyer with their path blocked, shouted. Then Rift tore his way out over the creatures’ heads.

Rift bounded down the stairs, Moon right behind him. But Rift turned off at the next landing and slammed through a door. Moon hesitated. It led into a foyer and hall not much different from the one they had just escaped. Rift stopped to whisper, “This way—we can’t go down the main stairs. He’ll order his men to shoot us.”

Moon’s nerves were as tight as wire at the idea of trusting Rift, but he heard the guard-creatures clumping down the stairs, and there was no time to argue. He ducked through the door, dragged it closed behind him, and ran after Rift.

They passed more doors, a confusing maze of empty rooms, then Rift took a smaller door into a plain room that held only a big iron stove. It was almost as tall as Moon, but cold and dusty with disuse.

Rift climbed up to stand atop it, and explained, “This makes heat for the bathing rooms above. They only use it when it gets cold.”

A copper-sheathed chimney led up from it, and for a moment Moon thought Rift meant them to escape through that. It looked far too small and it was going the wrong direction. But there was a grate in the wall behind it, and Rift pried it open with his claws. It opened into a much larger shaft that led down through the wall of the tower. A cool breeze flowed from it, carrying the faint odors of outside air. “This is for ventilation,” Rift said as he climbed inside. “Ardan doesn’t know I’ve been down here.”

“Then why didn’t you escape before?” Moon followed him reluctantly. There were so many things he didn’t like about this that he couldn’t settle on which was the worst.

Rift hung from chinks in the wall, let Moon get through and then, one-handed, he tugged the grate back into place. “I didn’t have anywhere to go.”

Moon helped him pull the grate closed, which left the shaft with only the small amount of dappled vapor-light that shone through the bars. “What court are you from?”

Rift eyed him uncertainly as he clung to the grate. “I don’t have a court. I was traveling alone.”

Moon’s spines snapped up, his first impulse a renewed fury. He’s lying, he’s lying to make me think— Except Rift couldn’t know anything about Moon’s past.

Rift shrunk back against the wall at Moon’s reaction. Moon made himself lean back, settle his spines. He started to climb down and after a moment, Rift hurried to catch up. Moon asked, “How did you get here?”

Rift hesitated, as if afraid to provoke another angry reaction. It was already too dark to read his expression. He answered, “I came here a couple of turns ago, not by choice. I was traveling along the eastern shore and got caught in a storm. I got blown out to sea and couldn’t fly against the wind. I was exhausted, about to fall out of the sky, and I saw a trading ship. I landed on it. They locked me in the hold, chained me up, and brought me here to sell me to Ardan.” He took a sharp breath. “I know I should have let myself drown, but I wanted to live.”

Moon had wanted to give up more times than he could remember, and he was ten turns older than Rift, at least. He muttered, “You shouldn’t have let yourself drown.” He heard Rift miss a handhold and scrabble to recover. Moon added, “You’re lucky Ardan didn’t stuff you and stick you in his exhibit.”

“He had other plans,” Rift said, still sounding wary.

Moon clamped his claws into the stone and waited until Rift drew even with him. Going by sound and instinct, he grabbed Rift’s shoulder and felt the young warrior’s spines flatten into instant submission. He said, “You went to the Reaches with him. You led him to the Indigo Cloud tree. You could have escaped any time while the groundlings were traveling through the forest.”

Rift wriggled to get away, then made himself stop. He said tightly, “I didn’t want to leave him then. He was kind to me. He helped me.”

“You’re eager to leave him now.”

Rift sounded genuinely anguished. “I’d been to that colony tree ten times over the turns, I used to shelter there. That court must have been gone for generations—”

Moon let go of him and started down again. Rift’s story cut far too close to the bone. “It was. But they were attacked by Fell. They— We had to move back to the colony tree.”

Rift caught up with him, his claws scraping the wall. “You’re a consort. What are you doing here alone?”

Moon didn’t answer, and Rift froze for a moment in startled realization. “You’re not alone. There are others.”