The mentor-dakti chittered warningly, and Janeas snarled at it.
Moon considered that response, the fact that he had given a ruler a chance to gloat over him and the ruler hadn’t taken it. He had always thought rulers only cared about themselves, that the survival of the Fell as a race wouldn’t bother them as much as a threat to their own scales. Except apparently that wasn’t the case at all. There weren’t that many rulers in Fell flights, and what was that like, to live surrounded by dakti and kethel who differed from trained animals only by their active malice? Maybe rulers... cared about each other. Kathras cared about Liheas, or at least cared that I killed him.
Moon wet dry lips and said, “Kathras was dying when he found us.”
Janeas made a sound, an exhalation of breath that wasn’t a hiss. Moon said, “He could barely stay in the air. She made him fly himself to death to catch up with us, through mountain currents, ice storms. There were two of us. We could stop. One could rest while the other hunted.”
Janeas flung him down, and Moon struck the rubbery floor face-first. Standing over him, Janeas snarled, “You killed him. I saw it.”
Moon pushed himself up enough to look at him. His nose was bloody and it was hard to breathe.
“It was easy, because he was already dying.” He pointed back to the dead ruler that lay rotting in the cool air. “Just like she killed him—” Janeas took a step forward and Moon shoved himself back. “—for no reason. Because he tried to obey her orders. He tried to salvage her stupid plan.”
Janeas lunged forward. Moon rolled, pushed to his feet, and backed away.
“You think there’s any place for you, for the other rulers, once she does this? She needs dakti and kethel for slaves, not—”
Something flashed past the window, and Moon flinched back, thinking it was Ranea returning. But whatever it was had fallen straight down past this level. Then he heard a crash from somewhere below.
Janeas froze, head cocked toward the sound. An instant later, something else fell past the window, and this time Moon saw it: a big clay jar, one of the storage jars he had seen in the ruin.
Janeas strode to the window and Moon stumbled after him.
The jars had struck the floor of the hive and somehow burst into flame. Black smoke streamed up as fire spread across the floor.
Dry metal-mud, packed into the jars, and set on fire, Moon realized, and the surge of hope was almost painful. That has to be Chime’s idea. They would be dropping it on the outside of the hive, too, with any luck.
Another ruler flew toward them from the far side of the hive, banking in to perch in the window. It was Venras, the young ruler who had found Moon with the Dwei. He spoke to Janeas in the Fell language, and though Moon couldn’t understand the words, the panic was obvious.
Moon stepped back from the window, looking at Janeas. “They’re going to burn you out, kill anything that tries to escape—”
Janeas whipped around and grabbed him by the throat. His claws pricking Moon’s skin, he said, “We have their Arbora, and you. They won’t burn this place while you’re here.”
Moon couldn’t help grabbing Janeas’ wrist, but he forced himself to stand still, not to try to curl his body up to use the disemboweling claws he didn’t have.
“There are plenty of Arbora left alive in the colony. They don’t need these.” It didn’t matter if it was true or not, he just had to make Janeas believe it. “And they don’t want me—”
Janeas stepped close, hissing into his face. “You’re their only consort—”
Moon didn’t have to fake the bitter amusement. “The reigning queen ordered me to leave days ago. They know what Kathras said. They know you came to Indigo Cloud because of me. They only let me stay this long to help fight you.”
Janeas stared into his eyes, and must have read the truth there. He snarled, his hand closing around Moon’s throat, cutting off his air. Moon frantically pried at his hand, tried to kick, then his vision went dark.
The terrible pressure stopped. He hit the floor, gasping in a breath with the jolt of impact. His throat and lungs ached, and for a moment he couldn’t do anything but huddle on the floor and breathe. He managed to look up and saw Janeas coming out of the inner chamber, half-carrying the older Fell progenitor.
She was a little bigger than the ruler, but her scales looked soft, and her armored crest was much smaller, as if she hadn’t been meant to fight. She leaned heavily on Janeas’ shoulder, her half-furled wings drooping.
Janeas led her to the window where Venras still waited. Venras spoke again, jerking his chin at Moon. Janeas just shook his head, stepping up to the window, pulling the progenitor after him.
They’re leaving, Moon thought in dizzy relief. And Janeas didn’t want to kill Moon because he knew if he did, Ranea would follow him in a fury. That part’s not so good. If the queen-progenitor returned in time, she could take Moon and still salvage her plan for a crossbreed flight. Janeas was leaving Moon behind as the distraction he needed to escape.
Venras twitched around to take the old progenitor’s other arm, and the three of them dropped out of the window.
Moon staggered to his feet. Demus had crept forward to watch Janeas leave. It saw Moon looking at it and growled, flexing its claws. That thing has to go now.
It was smaller than a real dakti, and much scrawnier than a real Arbora, though its teeth and claws looked sharp. Moon looked around for a weapon, and spotted an unlikely one.
Watching Demus, he went to the platform where the dead ruler lay. He rolled the body over, dumping it out of the brocade coat it wore. Shaking out the heavy cloth, he paced toward Demus.
It crept backward, its spines bristling. It rasped in Raksuran, “She’ll claw the skin from your body if you touch me.”
“She’s going to do that anyway.” Moon didn’t hesitate, still stalking the creature, angling to one side, forcing it to move back toward the pool of water.
“Don’t kill me.” The tone changed from threat to plea and Demus crouched, trying to look helpless. “Please.”
“Then take the shifting geas off me and the Arbora,” Moon said, still moving forward, “and run away.” It seemed a rational choice to him, but then this thing was a Fell.
Demus crouched low, whining, then suddenly leapt for Moon’s head. Moon lunged toward it, swinging the heavy coat up. It hit the fabric and then him, bowling him over backward. Moon wrapped his arms and legs around it and rolled, trapping it in the heavy brocade, pinning it with his weight. Demus clawed with frantic strength, its jaws clamping onto his shoulder through the fabric, but its claws caught in the heavy material, just long enough for Moon to roll them both toward the pool.
They fell into the cold water and Moon caught a breath before he went under, using his weight to shove the creature to the bottom. Desperate, Demus wrenched an arm free and clawed at his side, tearing through his shirt and the skin beneath. Moon pinned its hand with his knee and held on grimly, staying under until his lungs were about to burst. Hoping the damn thing would be too distracted to hold the geas on him, he tried to shift.
It felt like it had when he had resisted Pearl. The pressure in his chest and behind his eyes was increased a hundredfold by the pressure to breathe, the growing pain in his lungs. Then suddenly something gave way, and wings and spines formed on his back; scales spread over his skin.
Moon lifted up, getting a much-needed breath. Demus was limp in his hands. Moon pulled the coat aside and snapped Demus’ neck just to make certain.