Starspawn

by Wendy N. Wagner

  “I’ll just be a moment,” she reassured him. She squatted down on the pier to rap on the decking. Still strong, but it sure didn’t sound like anything she was familiar with. She scraped it with her fingernail. “I think it’s bone,” she called back to her friend. “Whale, maybe? That’d be big enough.”

  Whalebone. It made more sense than wood, she supposed. If the golden city covered the entire surface of the island, that didn’t leave room for crops or forest. What they needed, they had to take from the sea.

  There were plenty of ways to make a living from the sea. Just ask a former pirate.

  She took a few careful steps forward. The pier groaned, a sad tenor counterpoint to the wind’s whistling descant. But the structure held. She raised the lantern higher and tried to make out the beach ahead.

  At first, she saw only darkness. She took a few more steps, still slowly, but more confidently, and then strode faster to reach the end of the pier. The beach proved to be reassuringly ordinary stone. Its surface looked smooth, but time had worn it down in places. Patches were still slick with water, and clumps of weed and foam floated in the deeper puddles. The white stone rose at a comfortable angle until it met a set of stone stairs, climbing into what looked like a long throat carved into the island itself.

  The damp air felt a little cooler here, and she turned up the collar of her sheepskin jacket. She studied the staircase. Her lighting was limited, but it looked clear enough. A few clumps of what looked like seaweed dotted its broad stairs, but it was somehow free of the kind of debris that had buried Sorind during its brief time beneath water.

  Of course, this island had been underwater. Maybe the mud and detritus had been flushed out when it drained.

  She took a cautious step up, her free hand settling on the handle of her axe. The sea creatures that had lived here must have certainly been flushed out, too, she reassured herself. But it was good to be prepared.

  “Jendara?” Boruc’s voice was no more than a whisper in the darkness behind her.

  She waved the lantern once, side to side, to reassure him, and took another halting step upward. While nearly wide enough for two people to walk side by side, the risers were ridiculously short and strangely deep. Whoever had built this place didn’t have a stride like hers.

  She craned her neck trying to make out the end of the strange staircase, but it snaked around a curve. It looked sturdy enough. No broken stone to warn of cave-ins ahead, and no debris piled up at the curve. If there was a better way to ascend to the gleaming city, she hadn’t seen it.

  Jendara ran back to the dock and hurried back on board the dinghy. Boruc snatched the lantern from her.

  “Well?”

  “Looks like there’s a way up,” she answered. “Let’s get the others and find our fortune.”

  The wind’s whistle grew louder as Jendara rowed toward daylight. She tried not to think of the sound as unfriendly, but found herself rowing faster anyway.

  * * *

  “I don’t like it,” Vorrin said. “We don’t know what made this island sink in the past, we don’t know what made it rise today—”

  “The earthquake,” Jendara scoffed. “It thrust up as the rock shifted.”

  “But what made it sink in the first place?” Zuna snapped.

  Of course she’d be in agreement with Vorrin. It was the cautious route. Jendara flexed her fingers to keep from balling up her fists or folding her arms, both sure to irritate Vorrin.

  “We haven’t seen the island move an inch since we got here,” she said in her most pleasant voice. “It took a serious earthquake to make it come up to the surface. We’re smart and we’re tough. We know how to be safe in there. If anything goes wrong, we’ll get right back to the Milady. We’re not idiots.”

  Vorrin sighed. “I don’t know.”

  “Do you really think climbing those cliffs is any safer?” Jendara urged him. “We’re all good climbers, but fully loaded with gold and treasure? I think it’s worth the risk of exploring new territory to prevent a big fall.”

  “I guess,” he agreed.

  “Great. Boruc’s gotten both dinghies ready for us. Let’s just collect the last of our exploring gear and we can head out.” Jendara turned, ready to head below for some more supplies, but Glayn caught her by the arm.

  “Dara,” he said, pitching his voice low. The gnome’s face, usually all smiles, was nearly grim. “What makes you so sure the earthquake made the island come up?”

  “It makes sense, doesn’t it? Earthquakes can change whole landscapes.”

  “There’ve been other earthquakes,” he reminded her. “Why didn’t it show up the last time one rattled our bones?”

  “Well, what else could have caused it?” She put her hands on her hips.

  “What if the island caused the earthquake? Did you ever think about that?”

  “No, and I’m not going to. It’s crazy. The earthquake is the simplest, most logical explanation.” She began heading down the stairs and looked back over her shoulder. The green-haired gnome was still frowning down at her. “Besides, explaining the mechanics of the thing isn’t our problem. Let’s just focus on grabbing whatever we can and getting out of here before anybody else realizes this island has shown up.”

  Jendara strode quickly toward the galley. She could understand Vorrin’s caution and Glayn’s concern, but she couldn’t imagine turning back from that staircase inside the island. It might be a risk to explore it; it might not even be a viable path. But it was worth exploring. Weren’t any of the others thinking what she was thinking? If the outside of the island was so full of treasure, what might the inside be like?

  She lit the nearest lamp and then hurried between the two big tables, her sights set on the door to the storage room. She’d put a lot of extra rope and lamp oil in there. They’d need that, for certain.

  A rustling made her stop as she reached for the latch. No longer caught up in her own thoughts, she could see that the storage room door was drawn shut, but the latch wasn’t set. The rustling repeated, a little softer. Something was inside.

  Or someone.

  4

  STOWAWAYS

  Jendara readied her handaxe and threw open the door.

  All hell broke loose. Barrels crashed. Someone gasped. Something hairy burst out at her at the same time a wood-splitting maul toppled out and smashed her toe.

  She stumbled backward as the dog leaped past her, barking happily. She could hear shouting out in the hallway and her toe pounded, but everything was obscured by the hot mist of rage filling up her vision. There wasn’t much light entering the storage room, but there was enough to see her son’s pale face in the destruction he’d wrought within.

  “Get out here right now!”

  He crept over a bag of nails and a couple of small casks, cringing away from her. She caught him by the elbow and marched him to the nearest table.

  “Sit down.”

  “Everything all right?” Glayn skidded to a stop. “Kran?”

  “Looks like we’ve got a stowaway.” Jendara glared down at the boy. “I ought to make you swim back to Sorind.”

  Fylga barked and jumped into the boy’s lap. The boy pulled her close to his chest.

  “What did you think you were doing? I told you that you couldn’t come. So you just disobey me? Are you insane?!”

  “Jendara.” Vorrin hurried into the room and took her arm. “Can I have a word?”

  “I’m not done here.”

  “Hey.” He forced her to meet her eyes. “Come out in the hall and talk to me.”

  She spun around so fast her braid caught him in the face. Stomping out to the stairs leading topside, she waited for him with her jaw set.

  “You don’t want to yell at him like that,” Vorrin said.

  “Butt out.” She raised a hand to stop whatever was about to come out of his mouth. “Kran’s my son, Vorrin. I’m in charge of him, not you.”

  “We’re a family,” he snapped. “Don’t forget that.�
�

  She drew a breath to snap back at him and caught a glimpse of Tam peering down the stairs. She swallowed her words and forced herself to search for another, quieter reply. “I told him to stay on Sorind. I made arrangements with Morul and Leyla. He can’t go behind my back like that. He has to be punished.”

  “And he will.” Vorrin leaned in closer. “Do you think it’s good for the rest of the crew to hear you yelling like that? This island is bad enough without you sounding like you’re coming unhinged. We’re depending on you to lead us out there.”

  He was right, and she knew it. It made her even more furious at her son.

  She shot Vorrin an angry look and went back into the dining area. Kran still sat on the chair, the dog on his lap. He put the dog down on the floor.

  Jendara glared at the little beast. Kran had always been hardheaded, but the dog represented their longest, loudest battle. She’d tried to explain her logic. Kran stayed with friends part of the year while Jendara traveled; if he was going to get a dog, he ought to get a dog that earned its keep. A hunting dog or one that could pull a cart. She hated to see the little mutt tagging along behind him, an empty belly on stubby legs.

  But Kran loved it. He wouldn’t hear of getting rid of it. When she told him to give the dog away, he hid it in his bedroom and snuck food to it behind her back.

  And Vorrin had encouraged him. The two of them drove her crazy sometimes.

  She forced herself to take a deep breath before she kicked something.

  “I’m not sure what I’m going to do with you,” she said, her voice rough but quiet. “But you’re in big trouble, boy.”

  Vorrin moved to stand beside her. At least he looked supportive.

  “We’re going ashore now. I don’t know how long we’ll be gone. You can have hardtack and some of the apples if you’re hungry, but you’re not to go on deck while we’re gone.”

  “And I want this mess cleaned up,” Vorrin added. “Fix the shelf in the storage room. Get everything back the way it was.”

  Kran gave a tiny nod, his expression pure misery. Another time, Jendara might have given him a pat on the shoulder, but not today. Couldn’t he see that she made her decisions to keep him safe? He had to learn.

  She loved the thought of exploring this island, but imagining her boy climbing around on it made her queasy.

  She lit another lamp and went into the storage room to retrieve the adventuring supplies. Sometimes this motherhood business stank like a three-day-dead fish.

  * * *

  It was nearly an hour later before they made it up the long dark throat of the staircase and into the heart of the island. No one spoke as they climbed those stairs. Even with their lanterns, it was impossible to step into that darkness and not feel the weight of the stone around them, the weight of history pressing down on their flesh. Jendara kept listening for the stone to give way around her, despite her assertion that the place was safe. Safeish. At least safer than a hundred-foot climb up a rope.

  When they emerged into some kind of great open space, she felt herself take a real breath again. Glayn patted her arm.

  “It’s the darkness,” he said, kindly. “It makes things worse.”

  He was right. It wasn’t exactly bright here at the top of the stairs, but a certain grayness permeated the space, as if sunshine filtered in somewhere nearby. She oriented herself toward it.

  “Those windows must be this way,” she said.

  “I’ll lead,” Tam volunteered. She let him.

  Just ahead, the space grew wider, as if the builders had intended this passageway to serve as a huge underground boulevard. The first of the windows started here: great purple slabs of glass that began above head height. Every other one curved up into the ceiling, forming skylights. Jendara had no idea how the glass could have survived its trip below the waves and then back above them. It was either a wonder of craftsmanship that had been lost to history, or there was powerful magical protection on those windows. Either way, their very existence spoke of a culture far more sophisticated than that of most in the Ironbound Archipelago.

  “Look at this,” Sarni called. She knelt beside the tumbled remains of what might have once been a kiosk and held something up. “What I can see beneath the muck looks gold.”

  Glayn hurried to her side. His eyes widened. As a lover of beauty—and having lived more than two hundred years—he’d seen plenty of good-looking loot. Sarni must have found something really nice.

  “There are other hallways connecting with this one,” Vorrin called out. Jendara peered into the darkness of the far side of the boulevard. The opening Vorrin had noticed looked wider than Sorind’s main street. “This part of the island must have been full of people.”

  “Or not quite people,” Jendara reminded him, thinking of the strange dimensions of the stairs in the staircase.

  He nodded and retreated into the smaller hallway again. With a frown, Jendara went after him, her hand on her new axe. The second hallway was much gloomier than the boulevard with its purple windows. “What are you doing?”

  “Just taking a quick look,” he called back over his shoulder. “I wanted to get a sense of how big this all is. I think there’s another staircase down here.”

  “Well, come back. I don’t want us splitting up.” She folded her arms across her chest as she waited for him to rejoin her. “You trying to get yourself hurt?”

  He leaned in for a quick kiss. “You’re irresistible when you’re mad at me.”

  Rolling her eyes, she led him back toward the others. After Sarni’s find, they were looking over the rubble rather more attentively.

  “Look at this.” Boruc pointed to the far wall where the light from the first window shone. “It looks like all of this was painted once.”

  “It’s sparkly,” Tam noted.

  Boruc took a step backward, following the curve of the wall up to the ceiling. Jendara followed his gaze. She could see the faint sparkles that Tam had noticed, but she was far more interested in the blotches and patterns of the faded paint. They looked a little like human figures—bipedal, lumpen figures with eyes that winked in the light. She took a few steps down the great boulevard and glanced back at them. The eyes had followed her movement.

  “There’s more light up ahead,” she said. “Let’s keep moving.”

  As the boulevard made its way north, the sunlight grew brighter. Jendara’s instincts urged her toward it. She wanted to rush but didn’t dare. More of those fallen structures dotted the space, and here and there the flagstones in the floor had buckled, creating puddles and pools.

  Tam looked back over his shoulder as they skirted the edge of one of the larger stretches of water. “I swear something was moving in there,” he whispered.

  “I wouldn’t be surprised,” she whispered back. “Stay well back from the water,” she said, loud enough for the others to hear.

  A soft splish came from the pool, but nothing emerged.

  They walked cautiously for a few more minutes. Jendara paused to check another fallen structure. Built from stone, like the other one, this one had held up better—two walls remained, and Jendara plucked a gold coin from bits of broken shell heaped up in the corner.

  “Mind if I sketch that?” Boruc held out his hand.

  She let him add a quick drawing to his sketchbook, noticing as he drew that he’d put in the compass rose on the other page. She squinted. “You mapping this place?”

  “Trying.” He handed back the coin. “Art on it reminds me of the statues we saw from the ship.”

  Jendara held it up, looking carefully at the design stamped on the back. “Think those are tentacles?”

  “Ayuh. Noticed them in the murals, too. I think.”

  “You all have got to see this,” Tam called. “It’s pretty amazing.”

  He stood in a pool of bright sunlight that came from the gap between two enormous doors made of the same stuff as the pier in the cave. Ornate designs had been carved into them, many of which wer
e overlaid with gleaming gold leaf. What looked like an oversized church pew had been jammed between the doors, and now Sarni scurried up over the pew to enter the bright room beyond.

  “All clear in here,” she said. “No big puddles, even.”

  Boruc and Tam set their shoulders to the nearest door. Despite its size—at least twenty feet tall and probably half that wide—once it ground free of the debris in the frame, it moved easily, a work of inspiring engineering.

  Several rows of the great pews still sat neatly in the center of the room, facing what must have once been a wall of glass. But unlike the windows in the boulevard, these had not fared well against waves and time. A few shards of green and red glass stuck out of the first pew, propelled by the ocean’s power.

  “It looks like a chapel,” Glayn murmured.

  Jendara nodded, lost for words. She stood in the center aisle and slowly turned in a circle. The other walls were dark blue, perhaps painted, perhaps some kind of stone, and golden stars stood out in complicated networks around the room. She caught one grouping that looked familiar and moved to stand in front of it. The stars weren’t just gold paint: they had beaten out of metal and then fixed firmly on the wall. Tracings of the same glittery paint they’d seen outside connected the stars into constellations.

  “That’s The Dancer,” she said, “but her arms aren’t right. There are too many stars in her left hand.”

  “Stars shift,” Zuna reminded her. “The oldest star charts aren’t quite the same as ours today.”

  “Everything’s stars here,” Boruc pointed out. “They’re even carved on the backs of the pews.”

  “The Star Chapel,” Vorrin said. He smiled at Jendara. “Sounds promising.”

  Zuna moved behind Jendara’s pew to explore the back wall. Very little sunlight entered that part of the chapel, and when Zuna knelt down, she was nearly invisible. “This is interesting,” she called back over her shoulder. “There are recesses back here.”

  Glayn jogged over to join her. “Reminds me of the places where people leave their offerings—light candles and whatnot.”