Aldoan tried to be reassuring, though it was clear she didn’t believe her own words. “You will not be far away. Perhaps Vendoin will let us take you to visit him.”
They reached Delin’s cage, which was an interior room with a door that had been reinforced with metal strips. Two Hians stood outside.
Delin was happy to see Bramble, and anxiously helped her sit on the padded bench. Once Aldoan was gone and the door locked again, she told him in Raksuran, “I’m not really sick, it’s just the poison again. I wanted to get to you, but I had to leave Merit alone.” Guilt stung at her like biting insects. She didn’t know what Merit would think when they didn’t bring her back. She hoped Aldoan kept her word and told him what had happened.
Delin patted her hand. “Merit will surely understand. Perhaps we can agitate for him to be brought here as well.”
Maybe he was right. Vendoin had seemed to give into her on a whim; maybe all Bramble had to do was ask at the right moment. At least this cage was better. It had padded benches against two walls, and a cabinet with a basin inside, drying cloths, and a container for a latrine. The Hians had also given Delin some writing materials, which was more than they had given Bramble and Merit. Bramble thought one of the pens might make a stabbing weapon for a groundling, but with the Hians’ armored skin, it probably wouldn’t do much but antagonize them. If they let the poison wear off, then Bramble would have her claws, but that wouldn’t do much against a Kishan fire weapon.
They had also given Delin far more water and he said it was changed twice a day, so the first thing Bramble did was use a wet cloth to give herself a quick bath. As she scrubbed under her shirt, she said, “I heard Vendoin and Bemadin talking. They want Callumkal to help them with something, but he won’t.”
Delin’s brow furrowed. “You heard no more details?”
“Only that it would save uncounted lives, but it’s a risk, mostly to the Hians? And Vendoin was working on a translation of something, she didn’t say what.” She wrung the cloth out. “They didn’t ask you?”
“No. Not yet.” Delin threaded his fingers through his beard, something he did when he was thinking. “I wish I knew why they took me, then, if they didn’t mean to make me help them. Perhaps Vendoin changed her mind, at some point? Or could there be another reason.”
“Delin . . .” Bramble’s eyes narrowed. “Do you know what they want?”
Delin hesitated for a long moment, and Bramble could read guilt in his expression, even without spines. He said finally, “I fear so.”
Bramble sat down on a stool so he didn’t have to look up at her. “You know so.”
Delin’s mouth twisted as he hesitated. He said reluctantly, “On the sunsailer, when all were resting and Vendoin was in the steering cabin, I looked through the translations that she had done from the inscriptions in the city. I did not trust her and I felt she might be lying. I found one translation among her papers which was older, on a much worn paper, that she had clearly brought with her. It spoke of a hidden weapon, and a warning, an exhortation not to take it to the place where it can be used for it was ill-made and would destroy their children and allies as well as enemies.”
“A weapon. What weapon?” He met her gaze, and then Bramble knew. She shook her head. “Not the artifact. That can’t be it.”
It had lain in a chamber in the ruined foundation builder city, protected by spells designed to let only the forerunners, or their descendants, find it. It had drawn the Raksura to it, tricked them into bringing it to the sunsailer. From the spells on it they had known it was dangerous, that it was something that should have been buried in the city forever. They had planned to drop it into the ocean deeps. But then the Hians had come. Surely that’s not the weapon, Bramble thought, dismayed, we can’t be that unlucky.
Delin made a weary gesture. “There was no description, no way to make certain. But the artifact was so carefully guarded, to make sure no one but a foundation builder or forerunner’s descendent could reach it. I feared it was the case. And Bramble, forgive me, I feared to tell you and the other Raksura of it because I thought you might wish to use it against the Fell, and I thought it was best to heed the warning.”
His expression was so bleak, it frightened Bramble. “I don’t think we would have used it.”
“Perhaps.” Delin made a weary gesture. “Vendoin has not said why she betrayed us, but I think the artifact must be the reason. That she knew of it all along, and made use of Callumkal’s expedition to reach it. I believe she is taking it and us to this place where it can be used.”
It was bound to be another foundation builder city, and the thought made Bramble’s skin twitch. And she still didn’t understand Vendoin’s motives. “But they already have Kishan fire weapons. What makes this weapon so special?”
Delin shook his head helplessly. “A good question. The writing about the weapon said ‘destroy children and allies as well as enemies.’ Perhaps it creates a poison, or some other effect against those two species but no others?”
“So who are the ‘enemies and allies and children?’” This kind of story logic game was Bramble’s favorite when played around the hearth with other Arbora. Playing it in earnest wasn’t nearly so fun. “The allies could be the forerunners.” She hissed in dismay. “And we’re their children, Raksura and Fell.”
“It’s a strong possibility. Callumkal and many other Kishan scholars believe the Jandera and others native to the Kish lowlands are descended in some way from the foundation builders. This weapon might be used to kill half the inhabitants of Imperial Kish. If the goal is to use it against the Fell, then it would have to be used carefully.” Delin made a baffled gesture. “But again, the same could be said for Kishan fire weapons, which will kill just about anything they are pointed at.”
Bramble’s throat was dry. “Maybe they took me and Merit to test it on us. If it kills us, it’ll kill Fell.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Delin took her hand, and said, “I fear this, Bramble.”
South of Port Gwalish Mar
Chime sat atop the wind-ship’s cabin, taking his turn at watch. It was late afternoon, and they were flying over heavy jungle and rolling hills, the air humid and heavy. Finding the message cache from Moon and Stone had been a sharp moment of relief in the long days of tension and waiting, and he was still reveling in it. The certainty that they were going in the right direction, and the new moss sample to follow, had lightened the burden of everyone on the wind-ship.
Briar jumped up on the cabin roof to take his place, and Chime hopped to the deck to head down the stairs and into the main cabin.
River and Rorra were there, and she was saying, “We’re going faster than it seems. I’ve been calculating it and the flying island stones that this wind-ship uses to travel give it considerably more speed than a Kishan moss craft.”
Chime eyed River, reluctantly curious. It sounded as if River had actually expressed impatience over their progress. Chime still disliked River and always would, but River had tried to save Moon from the Fellborn queen and got his scales ripped open in the process. River saw Chime staring at him, sneered, and looked away. Chime snorted in derisive amusement, more as a reflex than anything else. It was the only way he and River ever interacted.
“Especially over land,” Rorra finished. She noticed Chime’s expression, looked from him to River and back, then shook her head. “And the Kishan say I’m hard to get along with.”
“That’s probably why you like us,” Chime told her. “Niran’s like that, too. Did Dranam say if they’re still going in the same direction?” He had missed the last check of the moss samples during his turn on watch.