by Martha Wells
Chime sighed pointedly, as if the effort of putting up with them was almost too much. “I’m not going to say anything,” he began, “But—”
“Don’t,” Moon said. “Just don’t.”
Something woke Moon, late into the night. He opened his eyes and didn’t move, trying to sense what it was. He was on the middle platform, lying on his side in groundling form to conserve his strength. The wind was cool, the dark sky streaked with clouds. Something warm leaned against his back, and something heavy lay across his waist. It took him a moment to identify it as Chime’s tail. Bemused, he thought, That’s... different.
Moon was fairly certain Chime had gone to sleep as a groundling and, from his steady breathing, Moon could tell he wasn’t awake. He shifted in his sleep? Moon had never done that, but then, much of the time his survival had depended on not doing that.
Chime was also still partly a mentor. He sensed something that made him shift in his sleep.
Moon eased up on one elbow. He hadn’t been included in the discussion about who stood guard when, and so had left the others to it. Now he saw Balm perched on the edge of the highest platform in her shifted form, leaning against one of the slender pillars, looking out to sea. The line of her body was tense, as if she searched the sky for something.
Clouds covered the waning moon, reflecting some of its light. The constant motion of the waves made it hard to pick out movement. Moon couldn’t scent Fell, but there was a strange odor on the wind, a slightly bitter tang.
Balm hissed a warning, flattening herself to the platform. An instant later a dark shape moved across the clouds. Moon dropped flat, and felt Chime jerk awake beside him. Moon squeezed his tail, whispering, “Don’t move.” Chime went still.
Moon didn’t shift, afraid it would draw the thing’s attention. Upper air predators often had frighteningly accurate eyesight, good enough to pick out a small loper in tall grass. If this thing was nocturnal, it might hunt by sound, movement, or strange senses unique to itself.
Time stretched, made more painful by the fact that flattened to the metal platform, Moon couldn’t see where the thing was. But it must be moving away. The strange scent slowly faded out of the wind.
Finally, Balm called, “It’s gone. It went north.”
Chime slumped in relief. Moon sat up and took a deep breath, rolled his shoulders to ease the tension. He heard the others moving, a rustle of wings as someone shifted. A head peered down at them from the platform just above, and Chime waved at it to show they were all right. Sounding shaken, he asked, “Did you see what it was?”
“Not a Fell.” Balm leaned down from the higher platform to answer him. “The body was long and narrow, like a snake. A big snake.”
“Stone didn’t say anything about big predators,” Jade’s voice came from above, more thoughtful than worried. “Maybe it’s only here during the warm season.”
Moon tugged on Chime’s tail, which at some point had wrapped firmly around his waist. “Could you...?”
Chime twitched in embarrassment. “Oh.” He let go of Moon and shifted back to groundling. “Sorry.”
Moon shrugged off the apology. “You shifted in your sleep. Is that normal?”
“No, not that I know of.” Chime looked warily out to sea. “You think I shifted because I felt it out there? Because I’m a mentor?” He lifted his shoulders uncomfortably. “But it was just an animal—albeit a big animal. I don’t know why it would cause that reaction, unless there was something magical about it.”
Moon nodded. “That’s mostly what I was worried about.”
“I don’t know,” Chime said again, sounding testy about it. “I’ll have to ask Flower, if we get back alive.”
“Get back alive?” Moon echoed, startled. It wasn’t a long trip, and Stone hadn’t indicated that it was a dangerous one. Granted, Stone had different standards for danger, but still. He took a wild guess. “How many times before this have you left the colony?”
Chime’s glare was palpable even in the dark. He lowered his voice and glanced warily at the upper platforms. “All right, yes, this is the first night I’ve ever spent away.” He shrugged uneasily. “I didn’t realize it would be this...”
“Dark?” Moon suggested.
The sound of gritted teeth was obvious. “That’s not funny.”
Moon heard the others settling down again. Song took Balm’s place as guard. There wasn’t anything Moon could say to Chime that wouldn’t be either pointless or patronizing. He just said, “Don’t put your tail on me,” and lay back down, pillowing his head on his arm. After some fidgeting and hesitation, Chime curled up behind him again.
The rest of the night was uneventful.
They reached the Golden Isles the next afternoon.
Moon saw the crops first: forests of short, ferny trees rising up out of the sea bottom, and beds of floating moss, planted with bushy root vegetables. Further in toward the islands, groundlings in small reed boats paddled swiftly between the thick clumps of foliage, tending it with long rods. They wore big, conical straw hats, and at first didn’t see the Raksura flying over them. Then Moon heard a thin shout distorted by the wind, and all the straw hats tipped upward. They seemed to be small people, their skin a honey-gold, their hair light-colored.
Just beyond the floating fields, the flying islands hovered high above the sea. Most were fairly large, though smaller chunks drifted in their wake. Some were high in the air, but others were only twenty or thirty paces above the water. They were all covered with conical towers and domed structures made of a white clay and roofed with reeds, connected by bridges and long galleries.
The flying boats were everywhere, docked at round wooden platforms stuck out into the air from the edges of the islands. They looked like ocean-going sailing ships, except the hulls were slimmer, less substantial, made of light lacquered wood or reeds. They were all sizes, from tiny rafts that could only hold a few people to double-hulled cargo craft more than three hundred paces long. Most had one or two masts, but they must be there for some reason other than sails, since there were no spars to support them.
Below the lowest island, floating on the water’s surface, was a large wooden platform built as a docking place for conventional sea-going craft. It was connected to the island above it by long wooden stairways. Two big flat cargo barges were moored at it, and a group of Islanders, in the midst of unloading clay jars from a third barge, pointed and stared and called out to one another.
Stone had said that they should land on the lowest platform, as it was the formal entrance to the city. Jade led the way as they glided down toward it, and Moon landed on the battered boards with the others.
The Islanders stared and scrambled around the stacks of clay pots and baskets to get a better view, or rushed to the railings of the nearby cargo barge. They seemed avid with curiosity and confusion, but not much afraid. They were short, the tops of their heads barely reaching Moon’s shoulder, most dressed for work in little but brief wraps around their waists. Most of them wore the straw hats. This close, he could see they had golden skin and golden eyes, and their hair was white, silky as floss.
More Islanders clattered down the steps from the upper island. This group seemed more intent, as if they meant to officially greet or repel strangers. They wore short robes, belted at the waist, and some wore lacquered armor pieces that protected chest and back. Their weapons were staves made of reeds wrapped together and lacquered hard. Still, Moon had the impression they didn’t encounter much serious fighting, and probably spent more time breaking up brawls on the docks.
The armed group reached the platform and approached cautiously. At some signal from Jade, the warriors shifted to groundling. Their audience exclaimed in astonishment.
After a moment of indecision, Moon shifted, too. He stood on the platform under that startled gaze, the sun warm on his skin, the strong wind off the water pulling at his hair and clothes. Every nerve itched; he felt horribly exposed. He had never shifted in front of g
roundlings unless he was in the midst of a last-ditch escape. This just felt... wrong.
The leader of the Islanders stepped forward, her expression wary. Her age was hard to tell; the fine lines at her eyes and mouth could easily have been from the sun and the omnipresent glare off the water. She spread her hands, saying, “I greet you on behalf of the Golden Isles... in peace?” She spoke Altanic, which was a relief to Moon.
Jade copied her gesture. “I am Jade, of the Indigo Cloud Court, sent by our line-grandfather, Stone. We seek to treat with you, to discuss a trade.”
“Oh, good.” The woman’s relief was obvious. “I’m Endell-liani, the overseer of cargo and trade. Will you come with me to talk with our Gerent? He is the elected leader of our trade guilds and speaker for our people.”
Jade inclined her head, the breeze making her spines flutter. “We would be honored.”
They followed her up the steps to the first island. The stair, supported by stone pillars with heavy wooden beams as cross-braces, was broad and steady. Alongside it, sharing the stone supports, was a pulley system for lifting small loads of cargo. Moon supposed large loads just went up in a flying boat.
As they climbed, Moon braced himself against the new array of curious stares from the Islanders on the next level; maybe it would be better when they went inside, where he wouldn’t feel so exposed. He thought he wasn’t betraying his nerves, but Jade kept glancing back at him with an air of suspicion, as if she thought he was doing something embarrassing.
Then Root, climbing the steps behind Moon, grumbled, “Why do we have to walk? Why can’t we fly?”
Or maybe Jade had been looking past Moon at Root, waiting for him to do something embarrassing. At least he had spoken the Raksuran tongue and not the trade Altanic the Islanders were using. Further down the steps, Song hissed at him and said, “Because it would be rude to the groundlings.”
Root laughed. “They don’t care. They want to see us fly. They stare like—”
Moon’s last nerve snapped. He stopped and turned abruptly back to Root. “I care.”
Root bristled, but Moon stood a step or two above him, looking down—a dominant position. Root gave in, twitching his shoulders in an unconscious attempt to lower the spines he didn’t have in his groundling form. He muttered, “Sorry.” Song emphasized the rebuke by slapping him in the back of the head.
Moon turned back, avoided Jade’s gaze, and kept climbing.
They reached the first island, where the stairs gave way to a paved plaza surrounded by white clay towers. Market stalls built of reeds or shaded with bright cloth canopies opened onto it. Most of the people gathered around the stalls were Islanders, though a few groundlings were of obviously different races, maybe traders from the barges. Moon smelled fish frying in sweet spices, and hoped the Islanders’ idea of hospitality included offering food.
Then Song said, “Jade, what’s that?”
Moon turned to look. Song pointed to the sky, squinting to see past the glare. Moon found the object immediately, a light-colored shape against the clouds. At this distance, it had to be something large. Very large.
Their Islander escort stopped and watched them uneasily. All the other Raksura had gone still, staring up at the sky. Peering up as well, Endell-liani said, “What is it?”
“There’s something up there, heading this way,” Jade answered.
It had a long snake-like body, white or pale yellow, and blended into the clouds it had dropped out of. The wings were huge, rounded like a water-skating insect’s, translucent in the sunlight. As light acrid scent tainted the air. Moon said, “Balm, this is what you saw last night?”
She glanced uneasily at him. “It’s the same shape, same scent.”
It drew closer and closer, past the point where Moon hoped they were all mistaken and that it wasn’t heading toward the islands and would turn away. It grew larger and more distinct, causing a bewildered stir among the watching Islanders. The hum of its wings was audible now, and growing louder.
“I see it now. It’s a cloud-walker.” Endell-liani waved a hand, baffled. “But they’re harmless. They live very high in the air, and come down only to feed on a certain plant that lies across the surface, much further out to sea. They don’t even bother our ships.”
That explained why Stone hadn’t warned them about it. A plant-eating upper air skyling wasn’t much of a threat. Except this one headed down, straight toward the Islanders’ harbor.
“It doesn’t look harmless,” Chime said, his voice low. “It looks like it’s coming down here for a reason.”
Moon had to agree. The creature plunged toward the harbor area just below this island, still not veering from its course. Sentries on the upper island shouted alarms; on the lower docks, Islanders backed away, scattered up the stairs and ladders onto the first island. Little skiffs in the water paddled rapidly away in all directions. One of the trade barges tried to cast off, though it was pitifully slow.
“This is so strange.” Endell-liani shook her head in horrified disbelief. “Perhaps it’s injured, ill, and it’s —”
The cloud-walker’s plunge turned into a spiral, its translucent wings a blur of movement. The head was big and round, the crystalline eyes multi-faceted; Moon couldn’t tell if it was focused on the harbor or the small floating island to one side of it. A cluster of flying boats hung off a platform on the island. The wind from the creature’s wings caused them to rock and clatter against each other.
For a moment it seemed as if the cloud-walker would do nothing, its shadow falling over the barges and docks while the Islanders froze in horror. Then the long, heavy length of its tail whipped around and struck the nearest cluster of flying boats. Moon flinched back as the hulls shattered. The platform broke in half, crashing down into a water-barge below. Wood cracked and groundlings screamed as the barge’s big mast shattered.
Endell-liani turned and ran for the end of the plaza, shouting, “Harbormen, assemble!”
The cloud-walker writhed in the air, as if the contact had been as painful for it as it was for the boats, the barge, and crew. It pushed upward, circling the upper island, knocking the roof off a tower with one casual blow of a foreleg.
“This can’t be a coincidence,” Chime said, turning urgently to Jade. “It’s here for us.”
He had to be right. Unless this giant plant-eater had suddenly developed a taste for groundlings, this attack was aimed at the Raksura. And the Islanders, their ships, the helpless groundlings on the trade barges, were going to take the brunt of it. Moon looked at Jade and demanded, “Are you just going to let this happen?”
She turned to him, her spines flaring out in anger. She said, “Then stop it.”
It was equal parts challenge and order.
Moon shifted and leapt into the air, hard beats of his wings taking him up. He needed to get above the thing as it swung around to take another dive.
It came around the top of the highest island and, instead of diving again, it veered off.
It’s heading for—Moon snapped his wings shut and dropped, the skyling’s swipe missing him by a bare wingspan.
Moon spread his wings again, catching himself on the wind as the cloud-walker overshot him. This is a problem, he thought, twisting in midair to follow its progress. He had expected it to ignore him in favor of the flying boats or the running Islanders. But if he couldn’t get on top of it, at least he could keep it moving, maybe tire it out.
It circled again and headed back for him, and he saw that it didn’t have claws. Its hands had stick-like fingers covered with flat pads, each capable of easily squeezing Moon to pieces. He banked and flew away from the islands, leading it out over the open sea.
It was fast, too fast. Moon was barely past the outer edge of the moored barges before its shadow fell over him. He dove, down and to the side. The displaced air as it rushed past him nearly sent him tumbling.
It circled again. Moon had no idea how he could keep this up much longer.
Then
he caught movement from the corner of his eye. Root and Song were in the air, arrowing straight in toward the thing. He looked for the others and saw Jade, Chime, Balm, and Branch high overhead, angling to try to hit it from above.
The cloud-walker spotted Root and Song, and veered toward them. Moon drove himself upward, hard and high, reaching the others just in time to join their dive for the cloud-walker’s head.
From this angle Moon could see how the long snake-like body was articulated; he aimed for the joint just below the round head, hoping for a soft spot.
He struck the body, found the rim of the shell, and sunk his claws into the tough gray hide just under it, furling his wings to keep from being blown off. Jade slammed down just past him and hooked her claws over the edge of the shell. The others hit further up or down. The cloud-walker abruptly bucked, its body contracting hard enough to knock Moon’s feet loose. For an instant he was almost standing on his head. Exerting every ounce of his strength, he dragged himself down and landed again. Jade still held on, her spines flat with the effort, but the others were gone.
Moon didn’t have time to worry about whether they were still alive. He looked down the cloud-walker’s back to get his bearings, then did a double-take. That can’t be right.
Midway down the length of the creature’s body was a huge, discolored lump of flesh, a growth as big as a small hut. It glistened unpleasantly in the light, so mottled it was hard to tell if had once been the same color as the cloud-walker’s hide or not. Maybe we’re wrong. Maybe it’s not Fell-sent. Maybe the creature had just been maddened by illness.
Moon slapped Jade with his tail to get her attention. Jade tried to hit him back with her own tail, missed, then finally twitched around to look. She stared at the horrible thing, then turned to Moon. Instead of disgust, her expression held startled comprehension. She leaned over to shout in Moon’s ear, “Fell, in there!”
