“Not commonly known,” Delin repeated. “You have concealed these abilities from your own Kish allies.”
Vendoin was impatient. “Do you wish to see it or not?”
Delin leaned forward. Bramble stood on her tiptoes to see. The inside of the rock was inscribed with more of the foundation builder writing, etched deep into its surface. Vendoin said, “This was found in the ruins beneath Hia Iserae. There are hundreds of them, containing different writings, most referencing places we can’t identify or species with names we have no record of, filled with words we can’t translate. They are correspondence, messages sent from other foundation builder sites to Hia Iserae.”
Delin looked up at her, eyes narrowed. “The message in this rock spoke of the artifact.” Bramble heard the faint tremor in his voice that he couldn’t control, the thrill of scholarly excitement.
“It described it, and the city where it was hidden. But there was no way to discover where that city was, though there were indications it lay somewhere in the sel-Selatra.” Vendoin touched the rock and it twisted and folded itself closed. “Until we heard of Callumkal’s map. Will you answer my question now?”
Delin said, “Perhaps I and Callumkal together will be able to answer.”
Vendoin sighed. “I can trade you knowledge. The imprisoned creature your Raksuran friends found in the underwater forerunner city; would you like to know what it was, and why it was there?”
Bramble’s eyes went wide, though she managed not to gasp. Delin went still and she could have sworn his scent changed, he was so shocked. And greedy. Vendoin had known exactly what to offer. Then he wet his lips and said, “You cannot know that for certain. There are theories—”
“When I first read your account, I recognized it. There were passages in the Hia Iserae message-stones which could only refer to it.” Vendoin lifted a hand. “It was a weapon as well.”
Delin glanced at Bramble, his brow furrowed. “A weapon? That being?”
It could be true, Bramble thought, turning this new information over. From what Jade, Moon, and Chime had described, the thing had been as deadly to the Fell as it was to Raksura and groundlings.
Vendoin said, “A weapon, bred by one of the enemies the forerunners and foundation builders united against. It was there to be studied, so the forerunners could understand it.” She nodded at Delin’s expression of consternation. “The creature was described in detail, though again there was nothing to tell us its location. But the depiction in your monograph was too exact to be referring to anything else.”
Delin watched her, the conflict in his expression obvious. Bramble caught Delin’s eye and nodded, just slightly. It was worth the risk.
He eyed Vendoin. “After questioning the Raksura about the forerunner city they were able to briefly examine, I could conclude only that the forerunners must have craft that could travel below the water, as well as the means of building beneath it. As we saw demonstrated in the foundation builder city. That is all I know of the forerunners’ method of transportation. I have encountered no writings that mention it in connection with them.” He shrugged. “In short, I have no answer. I know far less of the forerunners than you know of the foundation builders.”
The moment stretched as Vendoin met his gaze, then she looked at the papers again. “Perhaps later you’ll wish you had been of more help to me.”
“Perhaps,” Delin said.
Once Aldoan took them back to their cage-room and locked the door on them again, Delin said, “That went badly.”
Bramble had to agree.
CHAPTER TEN
Moon and Stone flew southwest, making brief stops only to rest and hunt, or when they came across anyone who might have seen a Kishan flying boat pass. This country was fairly empty and there weren’t many opportunities, which was for the best, since it usually required them to waste time pretending to be groundlings.
The latest confirmation that they were still going in the right direction came from a party of furred groundlings moving slowly along on the back of a giant armored herdbeast. Their leisurely method of transportation had given them plenty of opportunity to watch the flying boat go by.
There hadn’t been any more sign of the kethel, but Moon had an itch in his back teeth that told him it was out there somewhere, still following them. Whenever they stopped, Stone stared toward the north, growling a little.
The cloudbank Moon had spotted to the south never broke up. And he was certain it was getting bigger, like flying toward a mountain growing in the distance. He had decided it must be a large collection of flying islands. They had passed several and used a couple as spots to sleep a little. All were fairly small, some with broken towers or ruined remnants of walls still visible above the encroaching greenery. There had been a number of different flying island people, of a variety of species. They were all gone now, as far as Moon knew, their flying archipelagos nothing but fragmented remains.
But the next flying island they came across was different. From a distance it looked like a mass of trees with light-colored trunks and light green leaves, as thickly clustered together as grass, with a sweet green scent. Up close, it still looked like that, and flying under it, Moon found there was apparently no island, just the matted tangled roots.
He banked up to see Stone had landed on the edge. Stone shifted to groundling to squeeze through the trunks into the glade’s interior. Moon dipped down again to light on one of the outermost trees and hook his claws in the roots. Large dead trees, and some failed saplings, had their roots still trapped in the matrix. Moon furled his wings and carefully pulled himself up and in.
He slipped between the trunks as birds chattered overhead, stepping over holes in the root mass where he could look straight down to the ground far below. The sweet scent was clean and piercing, like a mountain-tree almost, but sharper.
He found Stone in a small open clearing, drinking from a deep rainwater basin formed where a trunk had fallen. Moon crouched on the edge to scoop up some water. When he was done, he sat back and said, “What kind of flying island is this?”
“A cloud forest.” Stone wiped the water off his face. “I’d heard of them but never seen one before.”
Moon looked around again. The leafy canopies were open enough that the sun fell through, bathing the whole grove in a warm light. There were smaller trees and more saplings here, as if the forest must grow from its center and push outward. It was too bad they hadn’t encountered it later; it would have made a good place to sleep for a while. “Is that what we’re seeing to the south? That big thing that looks like a cloud bank?” If it was one mass, and not a collection of fragments and heavy clouds, it was far larger than any other flying island Moon had ever seen.
Stone shrugged. “I’ve heard stories about a giant flying island you can see from the far south. I didn’t think they were true. It was called the walls, or the cloudwall, or something like that.”
Moon mentally sorted it under “things with no explanation that were interesting to look at and not particularly dangerous.” He stretched his back, taking a deep breath of the cloud forest’s scent. He thought about shifting to groundling, but Stone was probably going to want to leave in a moment and it wouldn’t be worth it. Just then Stone grunted and started to push to his feet.
The birdsong abruptly dropped in volume.
Moon clamped his jaw against a hiss. Stone went still, head cocked to listen. There was no stench of Fell in the light wind, and none in the forest. Stone stepped soundlessly over the rotting trunk, and turned to slide between the two nearest trees. Moon eased to his feet and followed.