The Serpent Sea

by Martha Wells

  Flower took a deep breath. “They can’t give us a seed.”

  Moon hissed a frustrated breath and glanced at Jade. Her spines lifted and she asked dangerously, “Can’t or won’t?”

  Stone answered, “Can’t.” With a weary groan, he sat down on one of the furs. “Their mentors thought that a new seed wouldn’t work on a mountain-tree that had already been implanted.”

  Flower added, “Our tree would keep dying and the seed would be wasted. They’re looking back through their lore on the seeds to make certain.”

  Her voice tight, Jade said, “So they can’t help us.”

  “I didn’t say that.” Flower hesitated, as if not certain how much she wanted to explain. “They had a suggestion. This court has a number of mentors, with several elders. They think we can all augur for the location of our seed.”

  Augur for it? Caught between disappointment and hope, Moon glanced at Stone, who just shrugged slightly. Moon took that to mean that Stone had no idea if this was possible and wasn’t going to give an opinion on it. Jade asked Flower, “And what do you think?”

  Flower spread her hands. “I’ve never done anything like that before, but I think we have to try. We don’t have any other path to take at the moment.”

  Vine said, “But what if whoever took the seed destroyed it?” Song nodded anxiously.

  Flower betrayed some exasperation. “Then the augury won’t work.”

  Watching Flower intently, Chime said, “Do they really think it’s still somewhere around here, and we can just go and get it?”

  “They have no idea.” Flower’s voice was wry. “But we don’t know why the groundlings took it, and anything could be possible.” She looked around at them all. “They aren’t certain, but they think a colony tree would only be able to last two or three turns without its seed. It will rot from the inside out.”

  And it’s already been gone a turn, at least. Moon folded his arms, trying to contain his impatience. They had to try this. The groundlings had been traveling on the forest floor, and that had to be dangerous. They might have been killed, the seed left to lie forgotten in the moss somewhere. If it hasn’t been eaten by a grasseater. If it hadn’t… How far could groundlings on foot travel in a turn, through hard country? Not nearly as far as we can.

  “Of course you’ll have to try,” Jade said. “But will it be hard on you?”

  “Yes,” Flower admitted. “But it’s not something I can leave to others.”

  Jade nodded, acknowledging the necessity. “We’ll wait for word from you.”

  As Flower left, Chime looked after her, his expression miserable. Then he shifted and jumped up to the ceiling of the chamber, and curled himself into a tight ball among the vines.

  Floret snorted derisively. “What’s that about?”

  “He wants to help,” Moon said it deliberately, keeping his tone just short of threat. He wasn’t in the mood to hear any garbage from the warriors, about Chime or anything else. “He can’t.”

  Floret twitched uncomfortably. To her credit, she said, “I forgot.”

  Song sighed. “I want to help too, but there’s nothing we can do but wait.”

  “No.” Jade tapped her claws impatiently. “We have to go to this stupid dinner.”

  

  Moon had never been to a formal meal in a court before. Usually eating meant either tearing apart a kill outside, or sitting around with everyone talking while they passed around food. This was a little different.

  It was held in a well that wound up around the central trunk of the mountain-thorn, its walls ringed with wide platforms and crossed at intervals by bridges for the Arbora. The light emanated from living cascades of blue and purple flowers, growing from vines woven through the branches that supported the structure. Moon and Jade shared a balcony with Tempest, her three sister queens, and their consorts, everyone sitting on furs and cushions covered with rich fabrics. The younger unattached queens and consorts were confined to separate platforms across the chamber.

  Ice and Shadow sat on another platform with the leaders of their Arbora. Stone had vanished again at some point on the way to the well. Most of the court, including Balm and Chime and the others, were seated on the platforms below. From what Moon could hear, it was a lot more lively down there. The only ones not present were Flower and the Emerald Twilight mentors.

  Earlier, Moon had asked Jade why Emerald Twilight was putting itself out to entertain them. She had said, “They probably don’t get many sister queens and consorts as visitors. Usually it’s young daughter queens, or warriors acting as messengers or bringing Arbora to trade crafts.”

  It explained Shadow’s curiosity about Moon. As reigning queen, Ice probably never left the colony, which meant Shadow never left either. He probably got few opportunities to talk to consorts he didn’t already live with.

  Before the food was brought, the queens sat to one side of the platform to talk, with the consorts taking the other. On their side, Jade and Tempest and the others made pointedly polite and occasionally cutting remarks at each other until it was apparent that no one was going to be lured into an embarrassing outburst.

  On the other side, the consorts stared at Moon, and he stared back. These were the consorts taken by the sister queens, the ones with important bloodlines who represented important alliances. Finally, one said, “They said you threatened Ash in the greeting hall.”

  None of the queens had mentioned the incident. Moon was starting to suspect that if one of them brought it up, Jade might have to do something about it, like fight Ash. Which would be a stupid waste of a fight, considering how easily Shadow had dealt with it. He corrected, “She threatened me.”

  “And you offered to fight her,” another consort said, his derision obvious. “That was foolish. What if she was hotheaded enough to accept?”

  Moon looked away, knowing his expression was sardonic. “Then maybe next time she’d think twice.”

  “You’d fight a queen?”

  “If I had to.”

  “They claimed he fought Fell.” This was said with deliberately provoking skepticism.

  Moon turned his head just enough to eye the speaker. Apparently he was being asked to prove it. The trick was to do that without disrupting the dinner.

  He was still young enough that his wounds had healed without scars. All except one. He pulled his shirt down his right shoulder and twisted around. At least two of them gasped.

  Only the very top of the red ridge of scar tissue was visible, where it curved up along his shoulder blade. It marked the spot where Ranea had broken his wing joint in his other form. It hadn’t made an open wound, but when he had shifted to groundling, it had transformed into broken bones and this ridge of damaged skin. Flower had said it would probably fade a little over time, but it didn’t hurt often now and it wasn’t where he could see it, so it didn’t much concern him.

  He pulled his shirt back up and turned around. They were all staring, this time with shock rather than disdain.

  After that, the consorts talked to each other, but not to Moon.

  Jade had said Indigo Cloud had had consorts fight to defend the colony, but Emerald Twilight was too secure to need defending. Moon had proved he was different from them. Too different. You are your own worst enemy, he told himself. Not that that was a new revelation; it was just that he was starting to notice it more.

  Emerald Twilight warriors started to bring food, and the consorts got up to join the queens. Moon took his place next to Jade and settled on her cushion. She leaned against him, her scales a welcome warmth. Her voice pitched low, she asked, “Are you all right?”

  “Yes.” He had thought he had his expression under control, but maybe not. “Do I look upset?”

  “You look angry.”

  That was funny, because all he felt was weary resignation. He looked away and she didn’t press the point.

  The warriors who were probably clutchmates or lovers of the queens and consorts were invited to stay and e
at with them, and the conversation became more cordial, but that was a mixed blessing. Moon had already been stared at enough. Now he had the warriors sneaking curious glances at him.

  At least the food was good. There was meat, raw and fresh, cut into small pieces so you didn’t have to shift to chew it, and piles of cut and peeled fruit. There were also various roots, some raw and some spiced and baked in coals to soften them and bring out the flavor. There wasn’t any flatbread like the Arbora in Indigo Cloud made, but there was a pressed seedcake that was almost as good.

  It had been a long, anxious day, and once Moon had a full stomach, it was hard to stay awake. He tried to find a position where he could lean against Jade’s shoulder and doze off without falling over, when she said, “Was that true, what you told Ice? That you don’t remember anything about your birthcourt?”

  She kept her voice low. The others were still occupied in talking or eating. “You thought I was lying?” He had to admit, he did lie a lot. Turns and turns of lying his way into groundling settlements, lying about what he had done and where he had been and how he had gotten from here to there so fast, had made it second nature.

  “It occurred to me,” she said, her voice a little wry. “Well?”

  “No.” His earliest memory was of sleeping in the bole of a tree, warmly tucked in with the four young Arbora. Leaf, Bliss, Light, and Fern. He hadn’t let himself think their names in a long time. “I don’t remember anything. I told Shadow that, too.”

  “Hmm.” Using her claws with delicate precision, Jade picked a pit out of a piece of fruit. “Maybe Ice just wanted a close look at you, then.”

  “Why?”

  “She might have thought she could recognize what court you came from. Sometimes queens and consorts from the same bloodlines have a strong resemblance to each other.”

  He looked at her closely, trying to see it, but she just looked like Jade. “You don’t look like Pearl.”

  “To another queen, I do.” She straightened, frowning. “What’s this?”

  Moon pushed himself upright to see someone glide over from the platform where the unattached queens had been seated. Moon recognized the gray and green pattern of her scales and cursed under his breath. It was Ash.

  By the time she landed all the queens were alert, the consorts and warriors startled and a little wary. Tempest’s spines twitched in agitation.

  Ash stopped in front of Jade, spines aggressively lifted. “I’m Ash.”

  Jade regarded her steadily. “And why should I care?”

  Ash bared her teeth. “I spoke to your consort in the greeting hall. I said I thought he was a pretty thing and was surprised that you left him unprotected among us. But then I found out you were desperate enough to take a solitary.”

  Moon didn’t move, though he dearly wanted to jump right off the platform, whether he could shift or not. The greeting hall had seemed private compared to this, with the queens and consorts staring and the sound dying away above and below as the rest of the court gradually realized something awkward was happening.

  With unstudied calm, Jade sipped tea and set the cup aside, her extended claws clicking against the pottery. “Your bitter envy of my fortunate choice of consort is your shame, not mine.”

  Ash snarled. “Your consort offered to fight me. If you aren’t afraid—”

  Jade shoved to her feet and shifted to her winged form in a blur of motion. Moon rolled away and landed in a crouch, braced to shift and leap. Jade halted barely a pace from Ash, spines flared. Ash jerked back in reflex, but all Jade did was say, “I accept your challenge.”

  Ash growled, but it was unconvincing; she had given ground by flinching away. Trying to make up for it, she looked at Moon and said, “When I win, maybe I’ll take you.”

  Moon bared his teeth. “If you win, I’ll eat your guts.”

  Ash stared at him, incredulous. Jade said, with deceptive mildness, “That’s not an idle threat.” She flicked her spines. “Do you mean to fight me now or at some undetermined point in the future?”

  Tempest’s deep-voiced snarl cut across Ash’s reply. “Settle this outside.”

  For a long frozen moment, the two queens didn’t move. Jade stood like a statue, a coiled threat. Ash was breathing hard and, Moon realized suddenly, struggling to keep her spines flared. Maybe she hadn’t realized Jade was older. Or used to facing down Pearl, he thought.

  Then Ash stepped back, spines quivering. She said, “Outside, then.”

  Jade eyed her, then turned deliberately and stepped to the edge of the platform. Collecting Moon with a glance, she jumped off into the well.

  Moon shifted and jumped after her. Three platforms down she dropped onto the balcony where Chime, Balm, and the others sat. Moon didn’t stop, spiraling down toward the bottom of the well. At least Ash had waited until they were finished eating.

  Jade must have only spoken briefly to the warriors, because she landed just a moment after Moon. She started immediately for the archway that led out of the well. The tilt of her spines said she was furious, and he was starting to feel a burning resentment of his own. This is not my fault.

  Moon followed her into a wide foyer, where several passages met. Jade stopped beside a fountain that cascaded down carved rocks into a flower-strewn pool. She faced him and said, flatly, “You offered to fight her.” The growl grew in her voice. “What were you thinking?”

  He knew he should shift to groundling; it was dangerous to argue like this. But he cocked his head, deliberately provoking. “I was thinking I was offering to fight her.”

  “Queens don’t fight consorts.”

  “That’s hard to believe.”

  Her eyes narrowed, conveying cold threat. “When I fight her, don’t interfere.”

  Resentment turned into fury, and he flared his spines. “If she leaves a scratch on you, I’ll rip her apart.”

  He could tell it was taking a good deal of her control not to just slap him in the head. “Moon—”

  “You knew what I was when you brought me here.” He hissed in pure frustration. “I’m not like them. I never will be.”

  Jade’s tail lashed, but his words seem to strike home. She regarded him steadily, and the growl had left her voice when she said, “You can pretend to be like them while we’re here.”

  Stricken, Moon looked away. That was… not an unreasonable request. He just didn’t know why he couldn’t grant it. You provoked Ash, and you’ve walked into enough strange places to know better. But he had spent so many turns trying to fit in to whatever group he was with, trying to conform to expectations he barely understood. It was as if he had used up all his patience for it, and had none left for his own people. “I can’t pretend anymore.”

  Jade shook her head, her tail still twitching. But she sounded resigned. “Ash is young.”

  He faced her again. “So are you.”

  Jade tilted her head in irony. “I’m bigger. I’m stronger. And I’ve fought in earnest. She hasn’t.”

  A warrior landed on the floor of the well and shifted to groundling as she walked through the arch. It was Willow, who had welcomed them in the greeting hall. She stopped a few paces away and addressed Jade. “Tempest wanted me to speak to you.”

  Jade’s mouth set in a grim line. “Go on.”

  “This wasn’t planned.” Willow twitched, uncomfortable. “Ash is the youngest daughter queen in the court, and rash with it. She was goaded by her sisters and their warriors, who are just as foolish as she is.”

  Jade’s spines twitched uneasily. This had to be a generous admission of fault on Tempest’s part, even if it was being made through her warrior. Apparently it required an admission in return, because Jade said, “My consort is accustomed to defending himself. He didn’t realize she meant to make a childish insult, not a real threat.”

  Moon looked down, resisting the urge to dig at the floor with his claws. He had realized it; he just hadn’t cared.

  Willow hesitated, then added, “I know Tempest would ra
ther this challenge not take place.”

  Jade inclined her head. “Tell her if Ash doesn’t appear, I won’t pursue her. If she does appear… I won’t kill her.”

  Relief flickered in Willow’s expression. “I’ll tell Tempest. Thank you.”

  

  They went through the colony’s greeting hall, outside to the open platform they had landed on when they had first arrived. Stone waited there in groundling form, his opaque expression somehow conveying a deep disgust with all of them, but especially Moon.

  There was no one else on the platform, and only a few warriors in flight, circling near the outer barrier of thorns. Jade walked forward, crouched, and took to the air; hard flaps of her wings carried her out away from the colony’s platforms. She banked before the thorn barrier and began to circle. The patrolling warriors stayed well away from her.

  Moon shifted to groundling, folded his arms, and tried not to tense his shoulders. Stone was silent in a way that seemed to speak volumes. Moon wanted to say something, like I didn’t mean for this to happen. Saying it to Stone would be useless; he should have said it to Jade. He had helped Ash do something terribly stupid. A real consort would have ignored her or deflected her attention and never let it get to this point.

  Self-consciously he looked for Ash, trying to see if she was perched somewhere on the vines or branches, but she wasn’t here yet. Maybe she won’t come.

  On a broad balcony built out onto a curving branch above and to one side of the greeting hall entrance, Tempest stood under the shadows of the vines.

  After a moment, a subdued group with two queens and several warriors walked out of the greeting hall entrance and moved to the opposite side of the platform from Moon and Stone. The two queens must be unattached, because they were Ash’s age or younger, and they hadn’t been among those introduced by Tempest. The warriors were in groundling form, all young and pretty, wearing colorful clothes and an excess of jewelry. He wondered if these were the rash companions that Willow had mentioned. So far they were the only spectators. Keeping his voice low, he asked Stone, “Why aren’t the Arbora coming out?”