Chapter Four
Moon ended up in the mountain-tree’s canopy, higher up than anyone usually ventured, hanging upside down by his tail. The branches were narrower here, barely a few paces across, reaching up to tangle and weave themselves into a nearly impenetrable barrier. Nearly impenetrable. Earlier when the rain had stopped and the clouds opened up, Moon had climbed up through the entwined branches to fly above the forest.
He flew up past the clouds, into the bright sunlight, feeling the heat of it on his scales. He circled for a long time, listening to the distant high-pitched cries of the skylings that inhabited the upper air.
When the sun had moved toward evening, the clouds closed in again, and he dropped back to the tree canopy. He passed down through the branches into deep gloom, where drifts of mist formed, obscuring the lower platforms. He hung from a branch, listening to the birds and the treelings trill and chatter around him.
By nightfall it had started to rain heavily again, and Moon reluctantly decided he would have to go inside. The water drumming on the leaves and wood was not only uncomfortable, it would conceal any sound or scent of approaching predators. While being eaten would end all his problems, he wasn’t quite ready for so final a solution.
He started down, jumping from branch to branch. Closer to the trunk, he saw a circle of light, and realized it was the outside door in the consort’s level. It was never left open.
This gesture, for some reason, just ruined what little sense of calm and balance he had managed to attain. Hissing with irritation, he dropped down to the opening and landed on the little ledge below the door.
He took a cautious glance inside. The soft glow of the shells reflected warm red glints off the walls, and the room was empty. Moon climbed in and struggled to pull the heavy wooden door plug shut, then shot the bolts that held it in place. It was an awkward job to manage alone, and standing there, breathing hard from the effort, he felt exhaustion settle over him like a blanket. He had flown much further than he had today, on less food, but the intense emotion was draining. He shifted to groundling, forgetting that his scales were still wet. The water shifted with him, soaking his clothes and making them stick damply to his skin. That was about all he needed. He swore wearily and sneezed.
“Moon?” The tentative voice belonged to Rill. She stood in the doorway that led into the consorts’ bowers, watching him worriedly. “Why don’t you come in here? We’ve just made some tea.”
The last thing Moon wanted to do was talk, and it must have shown in his expression; Rill hastily withdrew.
Moon leaned on the wall and massaged the growing ache in his temple. He wanted to go to his own bower and sleep, but from the sound of movement and faint voices, he could tell they were between him and it.
Resigned, he traced his way through the maze of the empty consorts’ quarters, his feet leaving wet prints on the smooth wood. The breeze from the open doorway had found its way through here, and the air was almost as damp as it was outside.
He found them in a little sitting area that connected four of the larger bowers, one of them his. He stopped warily in the doorway, but the room held only Chime, Song, Root, Floret, and Vine, seated around the bowl of warming stones. Everyone was in groundling form, and everyone was staring at him, and it was hard to imagine a more uncomfortable moment. He saw Rill slip out through the opposite passage, probably going to tell Jade that he was back.
Moon was about to walk past them to his bower, when Chime smiled tentatively. “The foreign queens are still here, but they’re down in the guest quarters. So, you don’t have to see them.”
Moon didn’t have anything to say to that statement, which was bordering on the nonsensical. As if avoiding the queens would help. Song, braver than the others, patted the cushion next to her and said, “Moon, sit with us.”
That seemed to break the spell of awkward silence for the others. Chime moved the kettle back to the fire, and added, “Yes, come and sit. It must have been cold out there, when the rain started again.”
Vine put in, “They say the first rainy season is coming on now.”
Floret took that up hurriedly. “Not big storms though. Just a lot of rain like this, usually in the evening.”
It was suddenly tempting, and Moon felt his resolve weaken. After silently raging half the day, it would be something of a relief to sit here and listen to them talk about the weather and pretend nothing had happened.
He moved forward and took a seat on a woven grass mat, his clothes squelching unpleasantly. Chime hurriedly poured a cup of tea and set it in front of him.
As Moon picked it up, Chime cleared his throat. “We wanted to ask you to talk to the new consort.”
Moon stared at him, too incredulous to react. Chime, his eyes on the dregs in the bottom of the teapot, didn’t notice. He continued, “He begged Tempest not to leave him here. We heard him.”
Song rolled her shoulders uncomfortably. “Think about what it’s like to be packed off to a court where no one wants you.”
Moon pressed a hand to his temple, fighting the urge to laugh.
“He doesn’t have to think about it,” Root said suddenly, with a pointed glance around at the others. “Nobody wanted Moon here, remember?”
There was a moment of appalled silence. Then Floret hissed and aimed a slap at Root’s head. He rolled out of reach, bounced up to stand in the safety of the passage door, and hissed at them all. “You know it’s true!”
Root had been one of those who hadn’t wanted Moon here, though he had changed his mind at some point. His insistence on saying exactly what he thought, without restraint, had always been annoying. But for once Moon was glad to have someone acknowledging the obvious.
Exasperated, Floret started to stand, asking Root, “What’s wrong with you?”
Moon said, “Leave him alone.”
His voice came out in a hard rasp. Everyone went still for a moment, then Floret sank back onto the mat. Root ducked down the passage and made his escape.
The silence stretched, until Chime continued, stubbornly, “Someone has to talk to the new consort.”
“You talk to him.” Moon drained his cup and set it aside. At least he didn’t feel like laughing anymore.
Chime looked up at last, his brow furrowed. “I can’t, I shouldn’t. I’m your friend.”
Moon pushed to his feet. “You’re going to need a new friend,” he said, and walked past them, through the passage and the door of his bower.
Once inside he stopped. He hadn’t spent much time in this room, and now he never would. He went to the basket and pulled out the old clothes that Petal had found for him back on his first day in the court, a dark-colored shirt of fine soft material and pants of tougher fabric. They had been mended and stained a little, and he wore them for exploring trips and hunting. Everything he owned was a gift predicated on him being the consort of Indigo Cloud, but a gift from poor dead Petal he was still willing to accept.
He changed into them, and was draping his wet clothes over the chest when Chime walked in.
“Why are you so angry?” Chime demanded. “Did you even see him, he’s practically a fledgling. He’s probably not even fertile yet—”
Moon rounded on him and Chime fell back a step, startled into silence. Gritting his teeth to keep from shifting and biting Chime’s head off, Moon said, “That’s Jade’s problem. I’ll be gone tomorrow and I don’t give a piss what you all do with him.”
Chime just looked bewildered. “Gone tomorrow? What?”
“Tomorrow, the next day, whenever.” Moon couldn’t believe that Tempest would spend one more moment at Indigo Cloud than she absolutely had to, or that Jade and Pearl would let her.
Chime’s jaw dropped and his expression turned appalled. “You can’t leave, not over this! That’s crazy. Moon, it’s not worth it.” He waved a hand in exasperation. “You just don’t understand; it doesn’t mean what you think it does. Just because Jade takes another consort doesn’t mean she doesn’t want you—”
“Stop it,” Moon snapped. It was impossible that Chime didn’t know. But Chime was still staring at him, confused, hurt. “I’m not leaving. They’re taking me to another court. It’s a trade, Chime, me for a new consort.”
“What?” Chime’s expression now clearly said that he thought Moon was out of his mind. “No, you must have misunderstood.”
Hearing it put like that made Moon realize just how badly he wanted it to be a misunderstanding. Watching his face, Chime’s eyes widened. “But—”
“Moon.” It was Jade, standing in the doorway.
Moon stepped away from Chime, looking toward the basin hearth. He had been expecting Jade to appear, but he had no idea what she was going to say to him, or what he wanted to say to her.
Jade said, “Moon, come with me.”
His throat went dry, then he told himself not to be stupid. They couldn’t be leaving now; it was dark, raining. “Where?”
Irritation colored her voice. “To my bower, where do you think?”
Anger boiled, mostly at himself for that moment of fear. As if he had never been a helpless fledgling fighting for his life on a stormy night; this was nothing. He said, “Why? Do you want to make sure I don’t run away?”
Jade’s spines flared as she stepped forward. “Then we’ll talk here. Chime, get out.”
Chime hesitated, but then he fled, slipping out the door.
She came further into the bower and stopped a few paces away. She folded her arms, but her tail was twitching, betraying nerves. “They didn’t know. I told Heart and the others not to speak of it yet. They thought you were angry because I accepted a new consort from Tempest.”
“You didn’t think they’d notice when I left?” Moon didn’t think it would make a difference whether the court knew or not. If the leaders of the Arbora castes weren’t going to make any objection, then it didn’t matter what the warriors thought. Not that he had many friends among the warriors.
The nervous flicking of Jade’s tail turned into an outright lash. “Moon, this is nothing. I’ll appease Opal Night by formally asking for you, and we’ll come home. I promise you—”
Opal Night, Moon thought. If he had been hoping for a long-buried start of recognition, it didn’t come. The name meant nothing. “If it’s that simple, why did Tempest bring you a consort to replace me?”
“He’s not a replacement!” The words came out as a snarl, and Jade took a deep breath before she continued, “He’s an apology from Emerald Twilight. What happened with Halcyon was embarrassment enough, but when their attempt to make up for it turns into this—”
“You knew they were bringing him. When Tempest came here before, that’s what she told you. You knew…” Moon let the words trail off. The wristband. The one he had caught Gold and Merry making. Gold’s embarrassment and Merry’s sly question. It was a gift for him, the new consort. It was another twist in his heart.
Jade turned away and paced a few steps toward the hearth. That told Moon everything he needed to know. Her voice low, Jade said, “She came to warn us. I didn’t want to tell you. I wanted to…wait.”
He didn’t ask for what. Of course she wanted to wait to tell him. Better to keep him quiet and obedient and in her bed until the new consort arrived. It wasn’t unprecedented. Every bleak day he had been kicked out of a groundling camp or town was parading through Moon’s memory, every time his willingness to fit in had been taken advantage of, every small betrayal, every time someone had said, You’re a good worker, but…
Jade’s spines shivered. “Zephyr said Opal Night is a powerful court, the largest in the far west Reaches. She and Tempest haven’t been there. Emerald Twilight hasn’t had trade with them for turns, and Ice sent her messages to them through other courts.” Impatient at his silence, she said, “You aren’t the least bit curious to know your family?”
That was the wrong tack to take. You’re my family, he wanted to say. But it didn’t feel true anymore. “No.”
She watched him, her frown deepening. “Why not?”
Moon closed his eyes, forcing the anger down enough to give her a real answer. He had been better off thinking they were all dead, that he was the last remnant of a destroyed court. Now he knew the bitter truth. “Sorrow was carrying four baby Arbora and a fledgling. How far from her colony do you think she got?”
Jade didn’t answer. He opened his eyes, in time to see the flicker of doubt in her expression. She admitted, “Not far.”
“They could have searched. They could have found us. That’s what she was waiting for. She waited turns for them to find us.”
“Maybe they thought there were no survivors. Maybe they gave up.”
“You and Pearl didn’t give up.” When the Fell had taken the old Indigo Cloud colony, trapping most of the court, Jade and Pearl had been determined to free them or die with them.
“Pearl and I didn’t have a mother court to run back to.” Jade hissed out a breath and looked away. “You won’t know their reason unless you ask them.”
“You want me to go.” It was as close as he could come to speaking the thought at the center of the biggest knot of pain in his chest. Jade had said she still wanted a clutch and he believed her. If they had had one by now, they wouldn’t be in this situation. She had to realize the problem was with him, that he could contribute nothing to Indigo Cloud’s future. Turning him out of the court or even out of her bed might have seemed too harsh, especially after the way he had helped them find the stolen seed, and the promises she had made him. But this was a way to be rid of him with a clear conscience.
It would almost be easier if she admitted it. Almost.
But Jade, as if annoyed at his obtuseness, said, “Of course not. Queens don’t give up consorts.”
“Cloud’s queen gave him up. That’s why you’re all here.”
“You know only one story from our history and that’s the second time you’ve thrown it in my face.” Anger hardening her voice again, she said, “I told you, I’ll follow you there, and make them give you back. I won’t leave there without you.”
“Follow me?”
Jade’s jaw set. “Tempest refuses to let me travel with her. She thinks it would only antagonize Opal Night further. But I’ll only be a day behind you.”
He wanted to believe that, so bad it made his bones ache. But he couldn’t; the faith just wasn’t there. “You’ve been lying to me about this for days. Why should I believe you now?”
In the next heartbeat Jade had crossed the space between them and grabbed his shoulders. Her claws pricked his skin through the silky material of his shirt and her face was a tight combination of hurt and fury. “You want me to hurt you so you can hate me? Would that make this easier?”
Moon didn’t flinch. “Nothing could make this easier.”
It was only the heartfelt truth, and Jade’s expression turned stricken. She released him and moved away, staring down at the floor as if it had the answers. After a long moment, she said, quietly, “I promise you, you will be back here as First Consort before the month changes.”
Even as she said it, the overwhelming sense that it wouldn’t happen overcame him. She might believe she was telling the truth, but he knew it wouldn’t come to pass. He said, “When does Tempest mean to leave?”
Jade’s spines flattened. She looked up, brows lowered. “Tomorrow morning, if the rain’s stopped.”
“I’ll be there,” Moon said, and walked past her and out of the room.
He slept in Stone’s empty bower that night. The blankets in the bed still retained a wisp of Stone’s scent, and it made Moon remember that first trip across the mountains and the plains to the old Indigo Cloud colony, when anything had seemed possible.
* * *
When Moon woke, he thought at first it was an ordinary day. While the garden platforms were drying out, he and Jade had had a tentative plan to go flying through the suspended forest with Chime, Balm, and some of the other warriors, if the rain held off. Rain, he thought, and remembered.
He lay still, listening, filtering out the faint sounds of movement and voices from elsewhere in the tree, the falling water from the nearest fountains. He couldn’t hear drops drumming on the trunk or branches. If it was raining, it was too light to be heard. Which meant they would be leaving today.
Good, he told himself, knowing from experience that dragging out his departure would just make it that much worse.
But there were things he had to do first. He dragged himself out of Stone’s bed and dropped to the floor, his head aching and his muscles tense and sore. He felt as tired as if he hadn’t slept at all. He had seen groundlings suffer morning-after illnesses from too much drink or drugs; he hadn’t known you could suffer the same result from too much emotion.
He stumbled out of Stone’s bower and down the passage into the common area, only to discover he had an audience. Balm and Chime sat beside the hearth basin. From the blankets tumbled on the floor, they had slept here. Balm was staring at the heating stones, distracted and unhappy, pulling at a lock of her hair. Chime was huddled blearily beside her, and didn’t look as if he had slept particularly well, either.
They looked up as Moon stopped in the doorway. Balm started to speak, but before she could, Chime surged to his feet and said, “I didn’t know. We didn’t know.”
Moon nodded. It hardly seemed to matter now. “Where’s the new consort?”
Chime hesitated, but Balm pointed to the passage across the way. “Just down there, the third bower along.”
Moon stepped past them and went down the passage.
One of the mentors must have renewed the shell-lights down in this unused section, because it was brighter than Moon remembered. He stopped in the doorway of the third bower. The young consort was awake and sitting on a mat near the hearth basin, wearing the same dark-colored robe he had worn yesterday, without the concealing hood. His arms were folded and his shoulders hunched, though the room itself was warm enough. It was a good-sized bower but bare, empty except for a pile of folded blankets beneath the hanging bed and a small collection of packs and bags shoved against the wall. The place had the signs of a hasty cleaning, with a few stray dead leaves and damp spots left behind. As Moon stepped through the doorway, the consort glanced up, his eyes widening. He pushed to his feet.
He looked as young as Chime had implied, but though his body was almost too slender, his shoulders were broad; Moon thought he was probably past adolescence, if only just. His skin was a lighter bronze than usual for the Aeriat of Indigo Cloud or Emerald Twilight, and his hair was a light gold-brown. Next to him, Moon felt huge and awkward, as if he suddenly had too many bones and they were sticking out in the wrong places.
Moon said, “Who are you?” The young consort stared blankly at him, and Moon clarified, “What’s your name?”
“Uh.” He cleared his throat, and managed to blurt out, “I’m Ember, of Emerald Twilight, of the bloodline of Tempest and Fade.”
Moon hadn’t asked for a pedigree, but it was the way consorts were normally introduced. He supposed it was meant as a compliment that Tempest had handed over a consort from one of her own clutches, but Moon hadn’t had terribly good luck with her offspring so far. “You’re Ash’s clutchmate?”
“No, we’re not—We’re only half—” Ember took a sharp breath, as if bracing himself. “Fade had something wrong with his heart when he was born, and the mentors couldn’t heal it. They said it wouldn’t be passed on to his clutches, so when he was old enough Tempest took him as her second consort so the court wouldn’t lose his bloodline. But he only gave her one clutch before he died.” Ember dropped his gaze, in an agony of self-consciousness. “Just me, and four warriors. But we’re all healthy.”
Moon rubbed his eyes and muttered a curse under his breath. He might be mature and fertile, but he’s still practically a fledgling. A pampered and beloved fledgling, probably right up until the moment they tore him away from his brothers and sent him off to a foreign court with a terrible reputation. When Moon was that age, he had been experimenting with passing himself off as a groundling for longer periods of time, under more dangerous circumstances; and learning that he could use sex to get someone to be nice to him, for a while at least. And coming to terms with the fact that no place was entirely safe, that anyone could turn on him.
Weary past bearing, Moon said, “If you don’t want to stay up here alone, take the spiral stair at the west end of this level all the way down to the greeting hall. The hall just below it belongs to the teachers. They always have food there and they’ll take care of you.” He knew the teachers would take care of Ember, once they got a look at him; they had even taken care of Moon when he had first arrived, an unwanted feral solitary. That seemed like it was half a lifetime ago, not just the better part of a turn.
Ember looked up at him, wary but hopeful. Moon turned away, unable to take it a moment more.
He was in the doorway when Ember said, “Shadow said that I shouldn’t be afraid of you.”
Moon stopped. He had a surge of bitter jealousy for Shadow, secure in his court with more clutches than he could probably remember fathering. He said, “Shadow doesn’t know me.”
He left the bowers, avoiding the common area, finding his way through the back passages and out to the open gallery above the queens’ level and the central well. He shifted and jumped off, snapping his wings out to slow his fall, and landed on the floor of the greeting hall.
A group of warriors, Tempest and Zephyr’s attendants, sat grouped around the hearth basin near the fountain, watching him with wary curiosity. Ignoring them, he took the stairs down to the teachers’ hall. Several Arbora sat around the hearth, but Moon whipped past before anyone could try to speak to him and fled down the passage to the nurseries.
Outside the door with its carvings of fledglings and baby Arbora at play, he stopped and shifted to groundling. It was hard to make himself step through into the room beyond.
Inside was a big low-ceilinged chamber, well-lit, with a maze of smaller rooms opening off the main area, and several shallow fountain pools, each filled just enough to wash and play but not drown in. Most of the younger fledglings and Arbora were still asleep, curled up in nests of furs and blankets on the floor.
Bark crossed the main area, carrying a basket, still mussed with sleep herself. She saw Moon and stopped, staring. “Oh, Moon. I—”
“I need to see the royal clutch.”
She hesitated, but didn’t ask why. The word must have spread last night. “They’re asleep, but—” She bit her lip. “Yes, you’d better.”
She led him to a small room off the main area. The three royal fledglings slept in a pile of blankets, surrounded by baskets, rag toys, and some carved wooden grasseater figures. Bark crouched beside the nest to gently wake the occupants. She separated out two warrior fledglings and an Arbora toddler, gathered them up despite sleepy protests and carried them away.
As she left, Frost, Thorn, and Bitter were sitting up, blinking and yawning. Thorn and Bitter were in their groundling forms, dressed in soft old hand-me-down shirts, and Frost was in her smaller Arbora form, her spines and frills looking oddly abbreviated. They didn’t seem surprised to see Moon despite the early hour, and Bitter immediately tried to climb into his lap and go to sleep again. Moon sat him back down between Frost and Thorn. “I came to tell you that I have to go away for a little while.”
Frost immediately went from soft and drowsy to wide awake and mutinous. “You can’t leave. Who’s going to teach Bitter to fly?”
“I don’t have a choice.” Moon took a deep breath, and forced the sharpness out of his tone. “When Stone comes back, he can teach Bitter.”
There was a short startled silence. Reluctantly, Frost settled her ruffled spines. “Did someone steal the seed again?”
“No, nothing like that.” Everyone else seemed to have forgotten that incident. Or instead of remembering Moon’s place in it as the consort who helped find and retrieve the precious seed, he had somehow morphed into the consort who had just gone along for the flight. “You’ll be fine here.”
He thought he was doing fairly well at keeping his emotions off his face, but Frost exchanged an uneasy look with Bitter. Some communication seemed to pass between them, and Frost turned back to Moon. She said, “If you’ll stay, Bitter will fly.”
Bitter nodded gravely, with the attitude of someone making a terrible sacrifice for the greater good.
Moon rubbed his eyes. Oh fine, Bitter’s been faking it all this time just for attention. You would think, as the smallest royal fledgling, Bitter had more attention than he could handle. But after what Bitter had been through, maybe no amount was enough. And Moon had thought raising fledglings was one of the few Raksuran things he might be good at. “So Bitter has been able to fly all this time.”
Thorn shrugged uneasily and pulled Bitter into his lap. “Yes, but he’s not good at it. The last time he tried, the Fell caught him. We went back to get him, and they caught us too.”
So that explained it. Bitter buried his face against Thorn’s arm. Moon had to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment before he could say, “I appreciate the offer, but I told you, I don’t have a choice.”
Thorn watched Moon carefully, his brow furrowed with increasing concern. He said, “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“Nothing. I have to visit another court for a while. I’ll—” Moon meant to say I’ll be back soon but the easy lie froze in his throat. He had been lying all his life, but for some reason the knack had deserted him just when he needed it the most. He finished, “I don’t know when I’ll be back.”
Frost shook her head, in denial and protest. “But—”
“That’s all, I have to leave now.” He had to leave before he made a bigger mess of this than he already had. Before he could get up, Bitter lunged into his lap for a hug. So he held each of them for a moment, then made himself get up and leave the nursery.
He took the interior stairs up through the tree, avoiding the populated sections. When he reached the consorts’ level, Chime and Balm were gone from the common area. He wasn’t sure if that was a relief or not.
In his bower, Moon rummaged through the basket for things he would need if the new court took one look at him and threw him out immediately. He found a battered leather travel pack and put in a knife, some flints, spare clothes, the sash Rill had made him, a rolled-up waterskin and a thick blanket. He had arrived at Indigo Cloud with nothing, but he thought fighting the Fell and helping to recover the seed was worth at least this much.
Getting to his feet, he looked around the room. After a moment of arguing with himself, he picked up a tiny rag doll Thorn had made for him. It was just a twist of black cloth with a dried leathery palm leaf for wings, but he put it carefully in the bottom of the pack.
He left his gold consort’s bracelet on the edge of the hearth basin.