Moon thought that if the boat could get so close without waking them, then the whole group was lucky not to have been eaten by something before the Islanders happened along. “They were probably humiliated at being caught in the open.”
Chime turned his head to study the drawing, saying absently, “They sound almost as twitchy as you.”
Moon thought Chime needed to visit a lake bottom again, and made a mental note to arrange that as soon as possible.
The old man squinted at Chime. “You are a warrior?”
“No,” Chime said. Moon cocked an eyebrow at him, and Chime gave him a thin-lipped glare. “Well, yes,” Chime told the old man grudgingly.
“There are differences between you?”
“He’s moody,” Chime offered, leaning over to frown at the writing. “More than anyone I know, actually.”
Trying to page to the back of the book to see if there were any more drawings of queens, Moon snorted derisively. “Meeting the people you know would make anybody moody.” Then he heard voices from the other room, and a small commotion of footsteps. He rolled onto his side in time to see Jade, Balm, Endell-liani, and several other Islanders come through the nearest doorway. A young Islander man pushed past Endell-liani to burst into the court, only to stop abruptly. He stared at Moon’s old man, and said, nonplussed, “Grandfather.”
“I’m busy,” Grandfather said, still writing.
Endell-liani gave the young man a look of marked disapproval. “Niran, I told you everything would be well.”
The other Islanders stood there awkwardly. Moon picked out the one that must be the leader: an older man, polished stone beads braided into his straight white hair, wearing a robe dyed a rich blue. The leader turned to Jade and said, “My apologies for Niran’s impulsiveness.”
Niran looked uncertain, but not particularly guilty. It was obvious that Grandfather had heard there was a consort here and slipped away from the Gerent’s party in search of him. Apparently, finding him missing, Niran had come to the conclusion that he had been eaten.
Jade’s expression was ironic. “There is no need for you to apologize.”
It was a deliberate hint. Niran must have been less than tactful in his search, and Jade couldn’t let the insult go by. Moon approved; he was a rank amateur at Raksuran relations with groundlings, but it had to be made clear that the implication that any of them would even consider hurting a harmless elder was a serious insult. Everybody looked expectantly at Niran, who said, stiffly, “I apologize.”
The Gerent gave him a long look, then turned back to Jade. He inclined his head to her. “You are gracious. Please, let us continue our talk.”
Jade resettled her wings and led the way back inside. The Islanders followed her, with only Niran and Endell-liani remaining. Niran hesitated, saying, “Grandfather, you should leave them alone.”
Grandfather fixed a sharp gaze on Moon. “Do you want to be left alone?”
“No,” Moon said, too caught by surprise to lie. The question had more weight than Grandfather realized.
The sharp gaze was transferred to Niran. “Now go home. I’ll come when I’m finished here.”
Niran lingered, frustrated, but Endell-liani took his arm, tugging him away, and finally he went with her. Chime watched them go, frowning. “That’s not a good sign.”
Moon shrugged. Niran had a right to be cautious, but this would teach him to be subtle about it next time. Moon asked Grandfather, “Will you read this book to us?”
“Yes.” Grandfather tugged it away from Chime. “I will read you Kilen-vanyiatar’s observations.”
With the negotiations going on in the inner room, they settled in for a long wait. When Moon tried to drag himself up to go in search of water, Chime refused to let him. Chime found Root in the next room and sent him to get water and tea, then sent him back after that for cushions and a chair for Grandfather, whose name turned out to be Delin-Evran-lindel. Apparently the more names you had, the higher your rank, and Delin was an important scholar.
The book was fascinating. It told the history of all the interactions the Islanders had ever had with Raksura, and legends about them collected from other races. “This scholar actually spoke to the Ghobin?” Chime asked at one point, incredulous and impressed. “How? And more importantly, why?”
“Venar-Inram-Alil was a very determined man,” Delin admitted. “Also something of an ass.”
“Did they kill him?” Moon asked. He had never seen the Ghobin before, but they were a persistent threat in the forested hills much further inland. They lived underground, tunneling under other species’ dwellings to attack them, or stealing their young as food.
Delin turned the page with decision. “Eventually.”
Some of the information collected in the book was wrong, which Chime pointed out immediately. Delin made careful corrections. There were also myths and fragments of the Islanders’ own lore, stories about where their flying islands had come from and how they had been made. Moon found it all interesting. Balm stayed with Jade, but Branch and Song drifted in to listen, with Root wandering in and out, pretending to be bored.
After the request for tea, the Islanders sent in food, and after a while Moon felt like eating again. They provided fish, roasted whole or baked in clay pots with spices, yellow squash-like things that grew in the water-garden plots below the islands, and raw yellow clams and shellfish from the sea bottom. The others balked at the cooked fish, which just left more for Moon. The Islanders sent wine as well, but Moon preferred the delicate green and yellow teas. Fermented or distilled liquids had never had much effect on him, and it was interesting to see it was the same with the other Raksura.
Late in the afternoon, Delin found a story in the book that said Raksura could be captured by a ring of jien powder. Since there happened to be some available in the palace larder, Chime insisted they make the experiment. Moon thought it unlikely; jien was a popular spice in the east, and since it was often sprinkled on top of pastries and dumplings, he had gotten it on himself on many occasions. It had never had any ill effect on him, if he didn’t count sneezing, but saying so would have ruined the fun. The others picked Root to experiment on, but apparently convinced this was a trick, he retreated to sulk in a doorway. They finally tried it on Song, who stepped in and out of the circle of spice with no difficulty, saying, “I think we’re doing it wrong.”
Branch and Root got a little rowdy afterward, teasing that threatened to escalate into a fight. After the Niran incident, two young warriors in a loud and violent play-fight would be the last thing Jade needed. Moon said, “Branch. Root,” and then stared at them, communicating that if he had to get up off his couch, someone was going to get hurt.
They both subsided; Branch looked guilty.
Moon remembered thinking that Branch might be trouble, and knew he had been wrong. Branch was good-natured and quiet. Root was loud and annoying because he was young. Song was sweet and fierce, and shoved both bigger males around like a miniature queen.
Moon reminded himself that this was just a temporary place for him. If he wanted to stay with Indigo Cloud, he would have to keep defying Pearl, and sooner or later that would throw the whole court into chaos. From what he could tell, the court couldn’t stand any more chaos. But it was seductive, this easy comradeship. It might be easy, but it wasn’t uncomplicated.