The wind-ship’s sails were like giant fans, unfolding out from the large mast when the sailors pulled and adjusted the ropes. A ladder on the mast ascended to a little wooden box at the very top.
“What’s in here?” Chime asked, leaning over to look in. “Oh, sorry,” he added in Altanic.
An Islander woman was inside, apparently acting as look-out. She was very young, dressed like the other sailors in pants cropped at the knee and a loose shirt, her white hair kept off her face by a patterned scarf. She looked startled by their sudden appearance, but not panicked or upset.
“Will these ships hold the entire court?” Moon asked, boosting himself up to cling to one side of the box. Up here, the view was unobstructed by the sails or the bulk of the ship below. The marshland spread out below them like a green carpet, the hills a brown and gold haze in the distance.
“It’ll be crowded, but I think we can do it.” Chime hung on to the other side of the box, lifting his head so the wind stirred his spines. “If they have to, the warriors can spend most of their time in the air.”
Jade was over on the second ship with Root and Song, speaking to Diar, who was in command of the expedition. Ten Islander sailors crewed each ship, most members of Delin’s extended family. Niran was in charge of this vessel, and hadn’t made any effort to speak to them. His attitude still made it plain that he would rather not be here at all.
Moon felt a light touch and looked down to see the look-out run her finger down one of his claws, as if fascinated by the smooth texture and the bronze and black banding. He didn’t move, too bemused to react.
“Delin’s waving at us,” Chime said, leaning out to peer down at the deck. “I think he wants us to come down.”
Delin stood on the deck with Niran. Moon let go of the box, leapt out, and cleared the sail to glide down to the deck. Chime landed beside him a moment later and they both shifted to groundling. Niran’s jaw was set and his golden skin flushed with irritation. That’s going to be a problem, Moon thought. It was also going to become annoying. Both he and Chime knew better than to pull on ropes or touch anything else that looked delicate; if Niran had difficulty dealing with them, it was going to be interesting to see how he handled it when curious Arbora were climbing all over the place.
Delin just smiled. “You like our ship? It is the Valendera, the oldest of our craft, built by my father’s father. The others are the Dathea and the Indala.”
Chime said, “Yes, but how do they fly?” Earlier, he had climbed over the side and down under the hull, trying to see what kept the ship in the air. Moon had just figured that some things flew and some didn’t, and since the ship was from a flying island, its chances of doing so were better than most.
But Delin said, “I’ll show you,” and led them back toward a small deck cabin in the stern. Niran followed with an air of unspoken protest.
When Delin opened the heavy door, Moon saw that crystals in the walls and roof allowed in light while blocking the weather. Built-in benches along the wall doubled as storage chests. A shelf held lacquered map cases. But in the center of the cabin was a wooden pedestal with a heavy metal lid. It was etched with glyphs in the Islander language, and other symbols Moon hadn’t seen before. Metal handles stood out from the top of the pedestal, apparently so it could be turned, allowing the symbols to point to different directions.
Delin touched the lid, smiling reverently. “This contains the sustainer, the engine which controls the ship’s speed and direction.” He slid a bolt aside and opened the top of the pedestal. Inside was a chunk of gray rock, shot through with glittering metallic elements. He looked at them, brows lifted inquiringly. “Do you know what this is?”
Moon had no idea. He guessed, “A magic rock.”
Chime’s face was rapt. He looked up at Delin, smiling. “A piece of a flying island.”
Delin nodded. “A small piece, a very important piece, from the heart of an island. One of the things we search for in our explorations are fragments of islands, uninhabited and too small to be of use. We excavate and look for these rocks, which are buried throughout them.”
Chime looked like he desperately wanted to touch the rock, but knew he shouldn’t. “So you turn the case—”
“And the ship turns with it.” Delin carefully closed the lid again. “The force of the sustainer propels us. It allows the ship to float on the waves of invisible force that cross the Three Worlds. The sails are only to take advantage of the wind for extra speed. We can’t be becalmed like an ocean-going ship.”
It was probably a stupid question, but Moon couldn’t help himself. He asked, “When you take the rocks out, do the islands sink?”
“If we take too many, yes,” Delin told him. “There is a plateau in the north that is said to be a large flying island that fell to the ground. They believe several civilizations fought over possession of it, and that their attempts to drive each other away caused the power inside the rock to stop working.”
Chime stepped around the pedestal, examining the rest of the cabin. In the back wall, a small compartment held a heavy bowl of water with a sliver of metal shaped like a fish floating in it. Chime touched the bowl. “What’s this?”
That one Moon recognized. “It always points to south, so they can navigate.” He touched the fish, making it spin and bob.
“How do you navigate when you fly?” Delin asked.
“I always know which way south is.” The words were out before Moon remembered that he didn’t actually know if that was a Raksuran trait or not. He slid a glance at Chime.
But Chime nodded as he leaned down to study the little metal fish. He said absently, “It’s a pull toward the heart point of the Three Worlds. We all feel it, including the Arbora.”
Delin was already opening his writing box, but Niran stared, disbelieving. He repeated, “You always know where south is.”
Moon and Chime both pointed. A moment later the metal fish steadied in its bowl, seconding their opinion. Niran folded his arms, his face still skeptical. Exasperated, Moon had to ask, “Why would we lie about that?”
Delin sat down on one of the benches built into the wall, smiling mildly as he got out his writing instrument. “I’m sure a test could be arranged.”
That took up the rest of the afternoon.
Below them, the marshes gave way to plains studded with scrubby trees. The wind changed as they traveled further inland, and the sailors folded the sails up; the ships then moved with only the sustainer to power them. It was slower, but they still made good progress. Another benefit of traveling on a flying boat was that you didn’t have to stop to sleep or eat; Moon thought the steady progress of the ships would come close to making up for their slower speed.
In the early evening, Moon took Root and Song hunting, and they brought back a couple of big flightless birds, similar to vargit, for the Islanders. By the time they got back, the setting sun was turning the sky a warm gold.
Diar, on the Dathea, thanked them with genuine enthusiasm. “We usually live off grain porridge and dried root crops on these trips, and at home every meat other than fish is imported, costly, and not fresh.” She was older than her brother Niran, short and strongly built. She didn’t seem to share Niran’s reservations or, if she did, she hid it better.
While the crew carried their catch away, Moon remembered something he had meant to tell the younger warriors. “Don’t eat in your shifted form in front of the Islanders.” Some of the crew were openly nervous of them, some curious, and others cautious. Watching warriors eat would appall most groundlings, and it was too easy to imagine Root dragging a fresh kill up onto the ship’s deck.