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They came to the area where the giant stalks of the flying boat docks towered up. Squinting, Moon saw several boats anchored on each of the nearest, tied off to the elaborate flower structures that extended out to partially enclose their hulls. The upper city stretched overhead, the complicated webs of cable and platforms dotted with light. Voices and the sounds of movement drifted down.

They could safely ignore the bladder boats, which were kept aloft by giant inflated air bladders and were much slower and more difficult to steer than the others. There were several kinds of craft Moon didn’t recognize, and some spiky shapes that might be made from the same material as the giant insect carapaces. But on the third flower stalk were three Kishan-made boats, grown from the moss that converted sunlight to the power that allowed them to fly. But none was the right shape and all were much smaller than their quarry.

An armor-plated form staggered toward them in the dimness, then staggered rapidly away as Stone growled low enough to make Moon’s bones vibrate. Moon felt pretty certain that if the Hians had stopped here, they wouldn’t have left the upper city. Even with Kishan fire weapons, this place was too dangerous.

Below the nearest stalk lay one of the structures made from the nearly complete carapace of a giant beetle-like insect. The scents and the smoke drifting out was foul, and a few swamplings had collapsed outside. Some big scaled groundlings stood near the door, watching Stone and Moon.

The predator scent was getting stronger. “We need to move,” Moon said. It was getting harder to control his prey reflex. “Or we could shift and kill everybody in town.” The longer he was here the more attractive the second option became.

“We wouldn’t have to kill everybody.” Stone eyed the group near the carapace. It was hard to tell if he was joking. He turned back to the docking stalk. “Let’s see if there’s any rational people in the upper levels.”

A ramp curved up the first stalk. There were cage-like structures on the sides, which was disturbing, until Moon realized they were climbing bars, basically a staircase without steps, clearly meant for races other than the swamplings or scaled groundlings. More predators watched from below, though no one tried to follow them.

The ramp was gritty underfoot and they followed it up two turns to the first flower structure standing out from the main stalk. Small bulbs of light lit the interior, the glowing insects flickering inside. More climbing racks filled the space, leading up to smaller rooms tucked in among the curving petals. On the floor of the chamber lay bags for supplies and some baskets. As Moon and Stone climbed closer, the miasma of the town faded a little and was alleviated by a strong scent of clean fur and fruit.

The sources of the clean fur scent hung from the climbing bars. They were long limbed, long bodied, with narrow heads and large eyes in shades of yellow and green. Their hands had spidery, nimble fingers, and surprisingly, so did their feet. They must be a treeling race, not intended for the ground. Moon realized the small metal frames with the straps lying among the other supplies might be meant to help them walk on flat surfaces, like the way Rorra’s boots worked.

As they drew level with the chamber, a treeling uncoiled from the frame, head lifting to stare at them in what seemed to be surprise. “What are you doing here?” it said in Kedaic. Its voice was rough and rippling, suggesting a throat with an unusual texture.

Moon had a bad moment, thinking that it had been warned by the Hians and recognized them, before it added, “The Ilmarish hate soft skins. It’s dangerous for you to walk on the ground.”

“We’re not as soft as we look,” Stone said. “It’s not dangerous for you?”

“We’re the only Lisitae who trade with them,” the treeling said. “They can’t afford to chase us away.” Moon wasn’t sure if that was the name of the race, a family, or another city. It continued, “Why are you here? Are you traders? You should go to the upper city. It’s not as dangerous there.”

“We’re looking for someone,” Moon said. “Are there any Kishan flying boats from Hia Iserae in the docks?”

Stone added, “With Hians aboard. They’re about our size, but look like they have rock armor in patches on their skin.”

The treeling blinked, then leaned back and spoke to the others hanging in the upper frames. Moon caught the words “Hia Iserae.”

A smaller one with darker fur peeled itself off the frame and hung upside down to say, “Better check with the portmaster.” The treeling swayed toward them, sniffing thoughtfully. “Why do you want to know?”

Stone said, “They stole something from our flying boat, back in Kish-Jandera.” That had the virtue of being true, though it had happened on the fringe of the ocean deeps. Two more Lisitae swung down to listen, their wide eyes fixed on Moon and Stone. It would have been disturbing, except there was just something non-threatening in their attitude. Or maybe it was the long languorous limbs and the fluffy fur. “Where’s the portmaster?”

“In the upper city, toward the fifth stand over, that way. The one with the ktarki flyer. It has a loop, like this.” One long furred limb made a gesture. “The portmaster’s structure is large and round, with a light at the peak of the roof.”

“Thank you,” Stone told them.

“Go up!” one called as they turned back to the ramp. “Stay away from the ground!”

They followed the ramp up. On the ground below, a group of predators stared at them, intently following their progress. Moon was too occupied by his trail of thought to snarl at them. “So did the Hians plan to stop here all along? And if not, why stop?”

Large Kishan flying boats could carry a lot of food and water. This was why Jade and Malachite meant to search other potential directions and sightings of Hian flying boats; there just wasn’t a good reason for the Hians to come to this port, and even Lithe had been afraid her vision was wrong.

Stone rumbled under his breath, but it was thoughtful rumbling, not irritated rumbling. “Either something went wrong with their boat, or someone was waiting for them here,” he said.

They reached the point on the stalk where a bridge led off the ramp and into the walkways of the upper city. The maze of structures extended up several levels overhead. Some were just awnings stretched over platforms, others had driftwood walls and thatched roofs, and many were secreted bulbs, like the domes down on the ground.

The further they walked, the more activity there was, and the more variety among the races. Moon saw more treelings, some furred and some with shiny scaled hides. There were tall, willowy groundlings with long limbs and narrow skulls that curved back. They wore draperies that concealed much of their bodies, and there was something about their delicate appearance that was deceptive. Other soft-skinned groundlings were blue like the Serican traders in the east, or a dark brown, similar to the Kish-Jandera. Music, mostly drums and other staccato instruments, vibrated through the metal and plank walkway.

There was too much activity for Moon and Stone to draw attention. Some groundlings glanced up to watch them pass, but most were too occupied with speaking to each other or with moving goods along the walkways. Some platforms acted as gathering places, and some seemed to be caravanserai and depots for supplies. From the scents of cooked meat and spiced oils, some were selling food.

Stone veered off toward one and Moon stopped to wait without protest. Cooked groundling food wasn’t that filling, but it might stop Stone from ripping apart the next predator-swampling that looked at them funny.

Standing out of the way beside a heavy support cable, Moon caught movement overhead and nearly shifted. It was only a big skyling, climbing along a web of rope above. It was hard to get a good look at it in the intermittent light, but the body was rounded, with reflective shells and multiple hands that gripped the supporting bars of the web. Some smaller skylings that looked a little like the eastern Dwei buzzed along after it.