Starspawn

by Wendy N. Wagner

  Zuna stepped back into the light, examining what she held. “And strange statues,” she mused. “This was just sitting there. Do you think it’s worth anything?” She held the statue out to Glayn.

  He weighed in it his hand and turned it so the light played over it. The statue stood about eight inches tall, its base square, the whole thing vaguely columnar. Lumpen shapes stuck out around it. Barnacles and a few black mollusks obscured the statue’s details—the first reminders of flooding they’d seen inside the chapel. Glayn pulled out his belt knife and scraped off one of the barnacles. “I think there’s gold under all the garbage,” he said. “You’ll have to do a lot of cleaning,” he warned her.

  Zuna beamed. “Gold? Really? Gold!”

  For the first time, Jendara felt like she was seeing the real Zuna. It was as if her reserve had scraped off with the barnacle. She took back the statue and studied it for a moment, the uncharacteristic smile fading as she looked at all the barnacles and corrosion.

  Vorrin approached Jendara. “This is going well. We’ve been exploring for barely an hour and already half the crew’s found gold.”

  “Speaking of which, we’d better look for a path to the surface before it gets much later.” Jendara squeezed between Vorrin and a pew to stand in the doorway.

  She shook her head. They’d been so distracted by the chapel with its sunshine and ornate doorway that no one had noticed the staircase only a few yards down the boulevard. This was no dark, enclosed stairwell but a wide, grand staircase built from pale stone. The railings must have once been embellished with carved details, but now mussels and chitons covered most every surface.

  The mussels gave her pang. Hadn’t Oric said they needed mussels for her birthday dinner? If Kran hadn’t been such a generous soul, he wouldn’t have gotten trapped on the beach with a tsunami rolling in. And now the little dunderhead had to pick a fight with her. She didn’t want to be angry with him when he’d just done something sweet.

  Jendara shook off the tender feeling. “I found the way topside.” Without waiting for the others, she went toward the light-filled stairway.

  By the time she was halfway up the stairs, the others had caught up.

  “Six people could walk side by side without bumping into each other,” Vorrin noted.

  “Steps are the same awkward size,” Tam grumbled.

  “They’re fine for me,” Glayn said. “The folks that lived here must have had short legs.”

  “Stone’s a little worn here at the top,” Boruc pointed out. “It’s awful slick, so be careful.”

  Jendara sidestepped the spot he’d noticed and stepped out onto the surface of the island. The tall buildings and statues that crowded the island cast dark shadows across the open space at the top of the stairs. At one time, the area must have been a large, enclosed plaza. The low heaps of white stone suggested the remains of walls, and one taller section still stood. She leaned against it, noticing that the spot had an unobstructed view of the sea to north and south. To her left she could make out the yellow-and-blue pennant snapping above the Milady’s mainsail, and to her right, the open sea stretched out in lonely peace.

  Her eyes narrowed. Maybe not so lonely. She reached for the spyglass on her belt.

  Off to the west, she could just make out the shape of a large black ship accompanied by several small, blocky vessels and a handful of canoelike boats. They were several hours out, but they were headed straight for the island.

  “Vorrin,” she called. “Come take a look.”

  He took the spyglass from her and scanned the horizon. His back stiffened. “What kind of ships do you think those are?”

  She’d forgotten. He’d grown up on ships, but he was still a mainlander at heart. What she’d seen out here, he’d probably never had to deal with.

  The rest of the crew came closer. Sarni’s eyes were fixed on Jendara’s face, her expression nervous. Tam had put his arm around Glayn.

  “I’m not sure about the big black ship,” Jendara admitted, “but the smaller ones probably belong to ulat-kini.”

  He shook his head. “Ulat-what?”

  “Scum,” Sarni spat. “They’re thieving, kidnapping bastards that don’t deserve to breathe.”

  Jendara glanced at the girl. There was a story behind that anger, she was sure of it. Jendara held out her hand for the spyglass, then slipped it back in its case. “Ulat-kini are trouble. They look part human, part fish, with a little frog thrown in. My father said they used to keep to themselves, out at sea, and that every now and then they’d come to raid little villages.”

  “Not just little villages,” Sarni said. “We’d see them skulking around plenty on the edge of Halgrim.”

  “Now their raids are a lot more common,” Jendara explained. “They can breed with humans. The human hybrid type don’t breathe underwater like the others, so they build boats out of what they can find or steal. Real awkward vessels—that’s why they’re easy to recognize.”

  “I never saw an ulat-kini, myself.” Tam scratched at his beard. “But I’ve heard plenty. If they’re coming this way, we’d better move the Milady out of sight. They’ll plunder anything they can get their webbed hands on.”

  “Shit.” Jendara’s eyes widened. “Kran!”

  “We’d better get moving.” Vorrin frowned. “Where’s Zuna?”

  The tall woman no longer stood behind Boruc at the edge of the stone plaza. She had vanished into the great city. Jendara felt a rush of impatient anger. This was what came of bringing someone with no experience on a raid. She should have never let Zuna off the ship.

  “Everyone just be quiet,” Glayn said. “Remember, she’s got those bells in her hair.”

  The stupid bells. Jendara cocked her head, listening hard, mind racing. There hadn’t been any noise, no gasping, no screaming—that had to mean Zuna was fine. She must have just wandered off. Jendara realized she was rubbing the ancestor’s spot on the back of her hand and made herself stop.

  Tam caught Jendara’s eye, pointing between two precariously leaning buildings on the eastern side of the plaza. From a distance, the city had looked untouched, but up here Jendara could see how badly warped the structures were. Even the golden spires stood askew. She led the group forward, taking careful steps.

  Then she saw Zuna a few yards ahead, hunkered down beside a massive fallen statue, furiously chipping at some detail. Jendara’s lips tightened. One taste of success, and Zuna had turned treasure-mad.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she snapped.

  Zuna looked up, so focused on her find she missed the anger in Jendara’s voice. “Rubies!” She held one up that was the size of her thumbnail.

  “Wow!” Sarni hurried up beside her. “That’s amazing!”

  Boruc stooped. “There’s gold inlay and little emeralds beneath the seaweed. It’s got to be worth a fortune.”

  Jendara wanted to be angry, but pragmatism won over. She could talk to Zuna about the idiocy of leaving the group later. “All right, let’s get it down to the cave. We can load it onto the Milady and get moving before those ulat-kini arrive.”

  She studied the statue more closely. It actually looked a bit like the columns down in the sea cave—she could see the flat top where it must have supported something at one time, and the broader base where it had met the ground. Upright, it would have towered over Tam or Zuna, the tallest members of their party. Mud and seaweed covered most of the sides, but she could see details of sea creatures in the gaps. What looked like a solid gold dolphin with sparkling emerald eyes caught her attention. It was nearly as long as her arm.

  “I don’t know how we’ll get it down all those stairs,” she admitted. “It’s going to weigh a ton.”

  “Tam and I can sort it out,” Boruc said. “I know a thing or two about hauling stone, remember?”

  They began laying out their supply of rope, discussing the project animatedly.

  Vorrin caught Jendara’s eye. “That’s just one statue. Think how much w
e could make if we put a little effort into it.” He pointed out the next building. “I think that’s a gold sea star above that doorway.”

  They walked closer, their boots slipping and splashing over the rough ground. Shells crunched beneath Jendara’s feet. The creatures of the sea had made this island their home during its time beneath the waves.

  Vorrin balanced on a fallen slab of rock and poked at the starfish ornament above the open doorway. Silhouetted against the darkness of the interior, he looked like a more heroic form of himself—something out of a story. “I think it’s solid gold.”

  A noise like low mumbling made Jendara look away from him. She hurried to the corner of the building and peered around it.

  A group of creatures walked in the narrow alley between the next two buildings, chanting in a glottal language. Their massive dorsal crests and bulging eyes spoke of some deep-sea progenitor, their thick limbs ending in webbed and clawed appendages that only vaguely resembled hands or feet. They moved on two legs like humans, but there the comparison stopped. And despite the presence of the ulat-kini ships she’d just sighted, these were no ulat-kini. They were some kind of fish-folk the likes of which she’d never seen.

  She whipped back around the corner, hand going not for her handaxe, but for her sword.

  “What’s wrong?” Vorrin had the good sense to whisper.

  “There’s somebody else up here,” she whispered, “and they’ve got us outnumbered.”

  5

  THE WHITE DAGGER

  Sword at the ready, Jendara risked a look around the corner. The creatures had paused in front of a doorway she hadn’t noticed on the last glance. A few of them worked together to carry something heavy and bound in a net, but the others bunched up too closely for her to make out what they held. The leader of the group, a creature with a purple sea star dangling from an ornate circlet of woven seaweed on its brow, stepped aside. Two more of the fish-folk hurried forward to scrabble at the doorway. Jendara couldn’t make out exactly what they were doing, but the soft scuff of rock on rock suggested prying open a difficult door. The pair disappeared inside the building.

  She leaned back around the corner. “Get down,” she hissed at Vorrin. “Don’t go in front of the open door.”

  She took another glance and saw the other creatures making their way inside. Beckoning to Vorrin, Jendara crouched beside the open doorway on this side of the building. The creatures couldn’t be seen, although their voices murmured faintly in the darkness.

  “Get the others moving,” she whispered. “I’ll keep an eye on the fish-folk.”

  He opened his mouth and closed it, trusting her instincts. He crept away. Jendara hesitated a moment. She could just stay put, listening carefully. Or she could make her way into the building and get more information about the creatures. They didn’t look like adventurers. Besides the big package, none of them had carried large weapons or any rope or tools.

  She glanced over her shoulder at her crew. They had managed to move the column a few feet closer to the staircase, and now Vorrin was lending a hand. However they’d rigged it, the process was surprisingly quiet. Jendara peered into the dark building. She could just make out a faint blue glow in the depths of the place.

  They needed to know more. She slipped inside.

  Rubble filled a front room that might have been a foyer or something similar. No door closed it off from the next space, so Jendara kept low and crept forward. Sunshine lit the square of the doorway, leaving the rest of the chamber in darkness. There were no windows. The air felt thick and damp, and the smell of seaweed and dying shellfish hung heavily in the motionless air. The voices sounded louder up ahead.

  Creeping cautiously, she felt more than saw that the room opened onto a hallway. To Jendara’s left, a sliver of light revealed the door that the fish-folk had come through. The blue glow was stronger now, spilling out into the hallway ahead. Jendara moved a little faster. The creatures’ chanting had built to an eerie bass rumbling she could feel in her chest.

  Something squished beneath her boot and she slid sideways, just catching herself. She froze, certain she’d been heard, but the chanting continued uninterrupted. She moved closer.

  The creatures, thirteen of them, stood in a circle outlined by glass bubbles—perhaps fishing floats—filled with a cold, aquamarine light. The creatures’ hulking shapes looked even broader and more awkward up close. Their sloping faces with needlelike teeth reminded Jendara of the fish she’d seen brought up in the deepest of the deep sea nets. These were not creatures of light and air, but of the ocean’s darkest trenches.

  The leader fell to its knees, webbed hands uplifted. Its voice rose in pitch and volume, the tones piercing Jendara’s ears.

  Jendara stiffened. The package they’d been carrying lay in front of the creature, a soft-looking heap in the blue-tinged shadows, and now she noticed the neatly triangular dorsal fin pointing at the ceiling, the round, smooth forehead stretched toward her.

  A dolphin. Its flipper gave a weak twitch, and Jendara bit her lip to stopper her rage. The cheerful animals had swum beside her ship too many times for her not to feel a sense of kinship with the one lying on the floor. It must be in torment above the water.

  One of the fish-folk stepped forward, holding out a finely wrought dagger made entirely of some white material like bone or ivory. Jendara held her breath, admiring the blade’s astonishing workmanship. The creature bowed low to the leader and backed away.

  The chanting picked up speed. The leader raised the white dagger over its head and sang out a resounding tone. Then it plunged the dagger into the dolphin’s side.

  The dolphin jerked and twitched. It gave a tiny whistle and slapped its flipper on the ground. The leader of the fish-folk ripped the dagger from the animal’s side and drove it down again.

  Jendara turned away, hurrying back through the hallway toward the light. She didn’t know what the fish-folk were or why they were here on this island, but she knew a sacrifice when she saw one. And whatever undersea gods these creatures worshiped, she doubted they would look kindly on land-dwellers like herself.

  The crew had reached the top of the stairs. Sweat ran down Vorrin’s face, and Boruc stood rubbing his back. Glayn hurried toward Jendara.

  “What did you see?”

  “Some kind of fish-men.” She saw the look on Sarni’s face and hurried to clarify. “Not ulat-kini—something I’ve never seen before.”

  “Do you think they’re dangerous?” Vorrin asked.

  “I’d bet on it. They’re big, as tall as any of us, and they’ve got mean claws and teeth. The ones I saw were sacrificing a dolphin in some kind of ritual, so I’m guessing they’re priests. I wouldn’t want a run-in with one of their fighters.”

  “Let’s get this downstairs, then,” Vorrin ordered.

  “And fast,” Jendara suggested, taking a place at the ropes.

  “Careful of the railings,” Boruc warned. “Don’t want to bring the stairs down on us.”

  “Right.” Glayn took a place beside Jendara. “One … two…”

  “Three.”

  They all pulled together. Jendara felt the column roll slowly onto the first step and sit solidly.

  “Easy now,” Tam said. “Get behind it and push just a little so it stays under control. One step at a time.” Everyone shifted positions.

  “One … two…”

  “Three.”

  The column landed on the second step with a thud, just as Tam had planned, but Boruc’s gasp warned her something wasn’t right. For a second, she thought he would be fine, but the slick spot on the top stair, the very one he’d pointed out to her when they’d ascended, threw him off balance. He slid forward, his big boot striking the precariously balanced column.

  “Boruc!”

  She grabbed for his hand, catching him before he fell.

  Glayn shouted as the rope went taut in his hands. The column broke free of their grip and bounced down hard, smashing into the steps, breakin
g off streamers of seaweed and bits of gold inlay. The stairs began to shake.

  “Run!” Jendara bellowed.

  They raced down the shaking stairs, slipping and skidding on the wet seaweed the column left behind it. A grumbling filled the air.

  The column hit the railing and punched through, smashing down onto the ground below with a terrible crash. With a drawn-out screech, the flagstones gave way, blocks of stone tearing free of the shuddering staircase.

  Jendara leaped down the last of the stairs and hit the ground running. Tam passed her, towing Glayn behind him. Jendara searched around wildly.

  “Vorrin!”

  The smashing of stone overpowered any response he might have made.

  The crew came to a stop in the purple-lit boulevard, just past the entrance to the Star Chapel. They were somehow all there, from trembling Sarni to ash-pale Zuna. Vorrin reached for Jendara’s hand and gripped it hard. She pulled him close to her side, whispering a prayer of gratitude to the ancestors that he had survived the destruction.

  The grand staircase was no longer. Four or five stairs remained at its base, but the destruction of the railing had taken the middle of the stairway with it. Piles of broken white stone lay around the edge of a vast open pit.

  Grit pattered down from the plaza above, the only sound besides their ragged breathing. Jendara spat out a mouthful of stone dust.

  “Everyone all right?”

  “Not a scratch,” Vorrin said, his voice shaky. “A rock the size of a man came a hair’s breadth from braining you, and you don’t have a scratch.”

  Jendara rubbed her head absently. “I didn’t notice. I was looking for you.”

  “Our fortune,” Sarni whispered.

  Jendara let go of Vorrin’s hand and walked to the edge of the chasm where the stairs had been.

  “Careful,” Vorrin warned.

  She considered stepping a little closer and pulled back her foot. There was no trusting this floor now. She rose up on her tiptoes to see better into the big hole.

  “I think I see it,” she said. The light from the stairwell barely penetrated the pit, but she could see bits of pale-colored stone down below. “There’s another level, and the column’s just sitting there. In pieces, of course.”