by Martha Wells
“If you’re lying,” Stone said, his voice even and thoughtful, “I’ll find you. There’s nowhere I can’t find you.”
If the threat had been directed at him, Moon would have found it very effective. Apparently Nobent did, too. The water traveler huddled, eyes widening with real terror. “Not lying,” he said in a small voice.
Jade hissed and turned away to walk up the beach. Stone went after her. “Watch him,” Moon told the three warriors, and followed.
They stopped out of earshot, in the shadow of a stray sapling mountain-tree that overhung the beach.
Keeping her voice low, Jade said, “When Flower augured this morning, she saw a metal ship. She said it would lead you to the seed. Did you see anything like that?”
“No. But we weren’t looking closely at the harbor,” Stone told her. “When we go back, we’ll know where to start.”
Jade looked up the beach, her brow furrowed. “Someone will have to stay behind with Flower. It would be good to have a mentor along, but she’s just not up to it. I’ve never seen an ordinary augury affect her like that.”
Moon glanced up at the shelter. He hoped Flower wasn’t ill. Since leaving the old colony, they had all been on one long journey after another, and there had been no time for anyone to rest.
Stone followed his gaze. “She’s pushed herself too hard.” He turned to Jade again. “It’s a long day’s flight for a warrior, but if this thing moves further out to sea, they’d be stuck there. I couldn’t carry all of them. The best option is to let me go alone.”
“With me.” Moon couldn’t keep his mouth shut any longer. “I know more about groundlings than any of you. I know how to blend in.”
“He’s not wrong,” Stone admitted.
“I know that.” Jade shook out her spines, obviously unhappy with their lack of options. “But we’re taking a chance that we won’t need them to help fight when we find the damn thing.”
Jade had clearly assumed she was going with them. Nobody appeared to have seen the problem with that. Moon said, “Jade, the thieves know what Raksura look like. They’ve seen the carvings in the colony tree. Even in your Arbora form, they’ll recognize what you are.”
She hissed, her expression turning sour. But she didn’t try to argue the point. “So we’re leaving me behind, then.”
“Yes.” At her glare, he added, “We can’t help it.”
Jade turned to Stone. “Before you leave, take Nobent off somewhere he can’t cause trouble.” Grimly determined, she added, “If you’re not back in three days, we’re coming after you.”
“Fair enough,” Stone said. Moon thought, If we’re not back in three days, we’ll probably need the help.
Stone took Nobent some distance along the shore to the south and dropped him off. It would take him days and days to make his way back toward the sea-goers’ island, the hope being that he would be too smart to try to go there immediately. After that, Moon and Stone rested and fed, then left in the early afternoon. They could go more quickly this time, at Moon’s fastest pace, timing their flight to reach the city just after dark.
By the time the sun set, they could see the city’s lights in the distance, dimmed by the heavy mist hanging over it. As they reached it, Stone broke off to circle and Moon dropped down for a closer view than he had gotten before.
The city was mostly composed of towers that rose up the flanks of the giant creature and thickly crowded along its hilly spine. There were big ones, octagonal with domed roofs, and smaller round ones. Light shone sporadically from windows and on the plazas and bridges. There were glass and metal lamps, on poles or hanging from chains, filled with a vapor that gave off a white illumination. There were no streets, just stairways and walkways, wreathed in mist. Some of the towers were topped with elaborate structures, domed roofs, smaller turrets, and colonnades with wide terraces overlooking the city. Some were brightly lit and occupied.
The illusion that this was just another groundling city was broken by the heavy, damp musk in the air—the scent of a huge, unimaginably huge, water creature.
Moon flew in close to a larger tower, catching hold of a lower ledge and climbing up. From the top he heard voices, and a thread of music from stringed instruments. He reached the stone railing and lifted himself up just enough to peek over the edge.
Past the terrace, through the heavy columns supporting the dome, Moon could see a large group of groundlings, talking, laughing, moving amid low fountains and tall potted trees. They were dressed in flowing robes in brilliant colors, the fabrics translucent or catching metallic glints in the light. Heavy lanterns hung from chains, wrought into elaborate shapes of fish and sea creatures. The groundlings held goblets of pure crystalline glass in rich colors. Moon wouldn’t have thought living on a giant monster would be so lucrative.
He spotted four different races immediately; Nobent hadn’t lied about that at least. One group was tall and willowy, with dark skin and darker hair. Another was a weathered gold color, with long golden hair. The largest group by far had light blue skin, with knobby, pearl-like lumps on top of their skulls. The ones who seemed to be servants, who moved among the others with gold metal trays of food and drinks, were all shorter, with gray-green scaly skin and boney crests that looked like fish fins.
Moon pushed away from the railing, dropped down, and spread his wings. He caught the wind and turned toward the harbor.
He landed on a conical roof to get a better view of the half-circle of the harbor. Ships lay several levels below, tied up to long floating pontoon piers. Past them a great barrier ridge loomed, tapering away to vanish under the waves. Knowing it was the leg of the giant creature beneath them made the skin under Moon’s scales creep. Looking at the towers and other stone and metal structures made it easier not to think about what was below you. The leg was very… obvious.
The dock itself was narrow, built against the rising slope of the creature’s side. Multiple stairways led down from the crowded huddle of buildings perched just below the city proper, lit by the vapor-lamps. They had to be warehouses, provisioners, places where the ships could be hired or cargos sold. Below them, big metal scaffolds clung to the slope, hanging out over the water. They supported what looked like metal cradles, which Moon found bizarre, until he spotted one that held a small fishing boat nestled in its grip. The smaller boats must be cranked up out of the water with the cradles, probably to protect them when the monster moved.
No one was around on this end of the docks. A few people climbed the stairs at the far end. The buildings along here all looked oddly off center, as if their foundations were unsteady and they were about to tumble off their perches. Considering what they were built on, their foundations probably did move periodically. Presumably the giant towers were built on more stable footing.
Moon leapt lightly down to the walkway and shifted to groundling. Immediately the mist was clammy on his skin, even through the tough material of his shirt. The metal surface of the walkway was cold under his feet. The trade-off was that the heavy odors of monster and fouled water and dead fish wasn’t nearly as overwhelming. He took the first set of stairs, then worked his way down from walkway to walkway under the scaffolding, until he could step out onto the somewhat wider dock.
The green metal was rusty in places and puddles of water had collected in the worn spots. The vapor-lights were suspended on curving metal poles, the top of each one ornamented with a goggle-eyed fish head. The side of the monster was like a cliff stretching up from the water, the skin greenish and patterned with giant scales, crusted with little clumps of barnacle-like creatures. Moon stared at it in unwilling disgusted fascination. He couldn’t see how these people could live like this.
He tore his gaze away from the monster’s skin and walked down the dock, away from the fishers’ scaffolds, toward the bigger trading ships. The area wasn’t as uninhabited as it had appeared from a distance; the bundle of rags against a piling was a groundling, sleeping deeply. Another g
roup of groundlings were in a shack built back against the cliff, having a desultory conversation. A few others moved around on the deck of a ship ahead, and some carried casks down into the hold. All the ships were wooden vessels, their sails furled or folded down. They were large and small, some plain and some painted, some with carved designs along the hulls. He could pick out the acrid scent of tar, and the wet weedy odor of the fibers used to make the ropes.
Then he moved past a large sailing vessel and saw a ship docked by itself, at a pontoon pier that stretched further out from the others. The vapor-lights caught the gleam of coppery metal on its tall hull. There we go. Moon walked to the edge of the dock.
The metal ship was about two hundred paces long, but it was much wider than the sailing vessels. There were multiple decks above its bulbous hull, enough to make it look top heavy, and it had three wide chimneys across its width. It was also easily big enough to make a long sea crossing to the Reaches, and to carry a large party of groundlings and the supplies they would need to make the trek into the forest on foot. This has to be it.
It was dark, no lights showed in any windows or doors, and no one was out on the decks. The groundlings aboard must be sleeping soundly inside.
Moon turned away and walked down the dock toward the darker end, away from the vapor-lights. He sensed something big fly overhead, just out of range of the lights, and knew Stone had seen the ship as well. When Moon reached a shadowy spot, he ducked down, shifted, and slipped over the edge of the dock into the cool water.
Swimming in the dark, knowing what lived in these waters, was a nerve-racking experience. He stayed near the hulls of the other craft and worked his way back toward the metal ship. At least the water was fairly clean. The harbor area must get sluiced every time the creature moved, so it didn’t have much time to collect layers of garbage and filth like other groundling ports.
He reached the metal ship’s hull, and swam along until he found a boarding ladder on the side facing away from the dock. He climbed up onto the wide deck and paused to shake the water off his scales. Instead of wood, it was plated with narrow strips of copper metal. He listened for a long moment, and tasted the air, but there was no hint of movement, no scent of nearby groundlings.
There was a faint splash against the hull below, then Stone in groundling form climbed up the ladder, his clothes dripping on the copper deck.
Moon found a hatch, a heavy door with a thick crystal porthole. It opened into a wide interior corridor, dark except for what little light came through the doorway. It was lined with fine dark wood, with bright metal sconces holding white crystal globes for lamps. It was also utterly silent, and smelled faintly of must.
It felt empty, and Moon’s heart sunk. He had hoped the groundlings would be aboard, that they could surprise them, get the seed, and be flying back to the others before dawn. Obviously coming to the same conclusion, Stone made a low-voiced frustrated snarl. He stepped past Moon and moved down the corridor.
They found a doorway that turned into the darker interior. Stone stopped to fish in his pack and pulled out a small cloth bundle. As he unwrapped it, light glowed. It was a little beach rock spelled to make light, one of two that he had gotten from Flower before they left. He handed Moon the other one and they followed the passage inward.
About midway through the ship, the corridor opened into a living area. It had deep cushioned couches and bookcases with clear glass doors, and a white porcelain stove painted with delicate flowers and vines. Moon saw a book left out on one of the couches, and picked it up. It had a leather binding, and delicate paper printed with even rows of characters. He couldn’t read the language, and there weren’t any pictures. He put it back on the seat and stepped over to touch the stove, just to make certain, but it was cold.
He looked at Stone. “No one’s been here for a long time.”
Stone grunted an acknowledgement. “Maybe they left the seed. Look everywhere.”
They searched, opening every door, every cabinet, looking into every cubby. The cabins meant for sleeping had beds built into the wall, and cabinets for storage, so there were a lot of doors and cubbies to investigate. It didn’t help that many of them were still filled with possessions. Clothing made of heavy fabrics, leather boots and shoes, more books in unfamiliar languages, some printed and some handwritten, strange tools that Moon couldn’t guess the purpose of. Everything was as rich as the living area, with fine wood, polished metal, painted ceramic sconces over the lights. There were tiny rooms for bathing, the walls covered with painted ceramic, with basins for the water to be piped into.
Moon found a room that was meant for preparing food, with a long table and chairs, and a larger stove of metal. The cabinets there held white pottery dishes, and metal cooking pots and utensils, and containers of flour, salt, and other dry foodstuffs he couldn’t identify. Some of it had been sitting long enough to get moldy. There was a bowl on the table, filled with fruit so old it had turned into desiccated husks. Moon poked it thoughtfully, trying to estimate the age. Six changes of the month, maybe seven? Stone walked in, saw it, growled, and walked out again.
Down below there were strange rooms filled with machinery, all of it cold and silent. One of the rooms held blocks of a mineral, with a scent and texture not unlike the one used as fuel for light and warmth in the Turning City, back in the eastern mountains. Moon assumed the blocks were used to make the ship move, somehow. But searching those areas told them nothing except that the seed wasn’t hidden there. They found signs that the crew had left abruptly but meant to return: a jacket tossed over a chair, tools scattered on the floor in front of one of the machines, a writing book left out on a table with a wooden pen and an open ink bottle. The beds all had blankets and cushions, some tumbled as if the occupants had just gotten up.
They ended their search in the bridge at the very top of the ship. It was round, with big windows giving a nearly panoramic view of the harbor. They had to wrap their lights up again to keep the glow from being seen from the docks, so they had to search the large area by starlight.
Not that there was much here to search. There was a brass-bound wheel for steering and other devices Moon didn’t recognize, and papers covered with unintelligible writing strewn carelessly around. Some of them had been stepped on and torn or stained with dirt.
In the center of the room was a narrow, waist-high pillar of polished wood, the top formed into a heavy glass hexagon. It reminded Moon of the mechanism that steered the Golden Islanders’ flying ships, but there was nothing inside it and there was no handle to steer with.
Stone hissed in frustration. “The damn seed isn’t here.”
“It’s the only thing that isn’t here.” Moon straightened up from peering into the bottom of the empty pillar. “They left food behind, and their books, their writings, clothing. If they left voluntarily, they meant to come back.”
“Or somebody came aboard and killed them.” Stone shook his head and paced to the window that looked out at the harbor and the misty city rising above it. “And took the seed away somewhere. Flower didn’t say the seed was on the ship, just that the ship would lead us to it.”
Moon scratched the back of his neck, thinking it over. “But somebody still pays to keep this ship here.”
Stone turned back, frowning. “What do you mean?”
“Trading ports don’t let ships dock for free.” He had heard enough captains and sailors complain about this in the trading cities along the Crescent Coast to know it was a fairly universal practice. “Somebody has to own the pier, or be paying for the ship to stay here. And what about when the monster moves? The bigger ships can’t just be dragged along, they’d get damaged. Somebody has to sail this one. Or tow it.”
Stone turned to look out toward the city again. “So somebody must come down here to keep an eye on it.”
They wanted something fairly dramatic, something that would catch attention quickly. Setting the ship on fire was the first thing that o
ccurred to them, but that might rouse the whole harbor. So Stone climbed down the hull again, slipped underwater and shifted, and used his claws to snap the heavy cable at the ship’s bow.
Moon swam back to the docks, climbed a piling, and slunk through the dark to crouch among stacks of casks and boxes waiting to be loaded. Once his scales dried, he shifted to groundling and settled in to wait.
The ship was still attached to the pier by a few lighter lines and a cable in the stern, but without the bow cable it soon swung out from the pier and drifted sideways. It was a potential hazard to the big sailing vessel docked at the next pier, and it didn’t go unnoticed.
After some time, the groundling who guarded the deck of the sailing ship passed by that side, stopped, and stared for a moment, then hurried away. Soon he was back with more groundlings. Two of them went down the gangplank to their pier and crossed over to the buildings just above the dock.
More groundlings came out to look, then went down the pier. They brought out a small boat and readied lighter cables to fasten the ship back to the pier again. Moon cursed wearily. It looked like the dockworkers were going to deal with the situation without summoning the ship’s owner.
The lights and noise woke the crews sleeping on the ships nearby, and they started to come down onto the dock to watch. They were mostly of the dark and golden groundling races that Moon had seen in the top of the tower, though they were all dressed like sailors, in pants, shirts, and vests of rough cloth and leather. There were no blue-pearl people, and none of the sea-people with the grayish scales and head crests. Moon got up, wove his way through the forest of crates, and slipped into the crowd.
One thing Moon had wanted to find out, while it was still dark out and they were in a spot relatively easy to escape, was what the reaction would be to his and Stone’s groundling forms. It looked like the people here were used to seeing a variety of groundling races, but you could never be too certain. He had been in situations where a settlement had seemed to welcome a large number of diverse races, only to find out that his groundling form looked just enough like their hereditary enemies.
