“We should search the cadashah, depending on what Rorra discovers in the trade portal,” Kalam had said while they waited for her to return. It was a Kish word Jade didn’t know, and he had explained, “That’s a place with physicians where anyone can go at any time, for treatment or medicine or to stay, if they’re very ill and it takes time to cure them. If the people who found Moon didn’t realize he was a Raksura, they may have taken him to one. The cadashah don’t ask for payment, or anything, so it would make sense to take an injured, unknown traveler there for help. If it’s the same way here that it is in Kedmar, the problem will be that everyone who doesn’t have a private physician uses cadashah, so they’re all over the city.”
But when Rorra returned, it was with rumors of survivors found in the burning ruin and taken to conclave leaders. “They’ll want to question them,” she had said. “Obviously. Giant things don’t just fall out of the sky every day.”
So they had divided up the sections of the city that had public buildings for the conclave’s use, and were checking the cadashah near them as well. Apparently the conclave had dwellings on top of structures used as libraries and meeting places, which made it easier for Jade and Stone to get close enough to try to pick up Moon’s scent. Kalam was out with Stone today; he and Rorra switched between their two Raksuran companions in an effort to keep anyone from noticing and marking their movements. They met at the caravanserai every night and crossed off sections on Rorra’s maps.
Now Jade tasted the air deeply, sorting out Rorra’s scent, and the blended scents of all these busy groundlings. It helped that this city was almost as clean as a colony tree, with relatively few scents of rot or sewage. But no scent of Raksura, either. “Nothing. I’ll try again once we’re closer.” Rorra was also asking questions of the people who took care of the buildings, telling them she was searching for word of a missing Jandera flying boat that she feared had been destroyed in the strange ruin’s collapse.
Rorra pushed away from the parapet and they started down the curving walkway toward the domed building. “How long are you and Stone going to be angry at each other?”
Jade suppressed a jolt of irritation, feeling her spines press against her coat. It was followed immediately by a jolt of guilt; Rorra helped search for Moon with the dedication of a favored warrior and it couldn’t be easy for her to walk all over this city, no matter what she said. “I didn’t think it was obvious.” It had to be obvious. She and Stone could barely look at each other.
Rorra glanced at her. “It probably wouldn’t be, if I hadn’t been living in your laps for so long.”
Jade shook her head. “I’m angry at him because he’s angry at me. When we find Moon—” She cut herself off, forcing the bubble of fear down. “—we’ll talk.” No, we won’t. Because I’ve come as close to killing my consort as if I snapped his neck myself, and Stone hates me for it, and I hate him for not stopping me. Even if—when they found Moon alive, that wouldn’t change. “It’ll be all right.”
“I hope so,” Rorra’s voice was uncharacteristically soft. As they drew near the smaller walkway that curved off toward the first building, she straightened her shoulders. “All right, remember, you’re my friend the mineral hunter from the port of Ked-kalabesh.”
When Moon woke next it was night, and the bronze lamps above had lit the room with a warm light that came from the Kishan moss. He struggled out of bed and went to the other room to look out the windows at the city. It blossomed with light from the open terraces, windows, from hanging lamps along the bridges and walkways. Snatches of voices were carried on the wind, with threads of music and drums. He tasted the air. Again, no hint of other Raksura nearby, though that didn’t necessarily prove anything. They got away, he told himself. That’s why they aren’t here. Even if they had been trapped in the docks somewhere, they would have escaped when the structure had started to come apart.
At least he felt more awake than he had earlier, his head clear. He was weak, but the deep ache of abused muscle under the burns was less, and his newly growing skin itched. He tried to shift again, just in case Ceilinel had decided to trust him, but he could still feel a barrier keeping him in his groundling form.
Someone had been here, taken the dishes away, and left more water and tea, and more of the little cakes, and he hadn’t even woken. There were new garments lying on the bench, another skirt-pants and a knee-length shirt of dark material with a soft brocade across the shoulders. A second low table had been carried in, and it held several Kishan-style books. Wincing, Moon sank into an awkward crouch on the floor to examine them. All were in Altanic, though one had Altanic text on one side of the page and Kedaic on the other. It was a history of Kish, and he set it aside to read first. While he was down there, he crawled over to the other table and ate the rest of the cakes.
He shoved to his feet and took the fresh clothes. Across the room was a door to a smaller space, the scents coming from it suggesting it was a bathing room. It was, with the basins for washing and elimination similar to the ones on Callumkal’s flying boat, just larger and of richer materials. He used both, careful of all his burned patches and the bandages, then dressed again and continued to explore.
There was a door over the next arch, carved wood heavily reinforced with chased metal, but it was standing open. He slipped through into a curved hallway with one wall open to the chamber below. Everything was richly polished stone, sometimes carved but more often just showing off the natural colors of the different minerals. He followed the waist-high stone balustrade, tasting the air, looking for the source of the strong draft.
On the other side of the dome he found a gallery in the outside wall with floor to ceiling stone latticed windows, open to another view of the city. The breeze flowing along it was strong, and it had a better view of the aqueduct and a four-level building supported on multiple bridges, with open walls and walkways. It was brightly lit, and from the stalls he could glimpse and the groundlings moving around inside, it might be a market.
Moon carefully tore off a piece of bandage, then went to the gallery’s far corner and found a place where he could knot it around the support for a stone drainage pipe just outside the lattice. The effort left him a little weak and he went back to lean against the wide doorway, the warm wind ruffling his hair. It would be better to put something on the opposite side of the building too, in case the wind changed. He refused to think about the fact that there was no one left, no one looking for him.
He pushed away from the wall and followed the hall around to a curved, serpentine stair that reminded him a little of the colony tree. Downstairs he wandered the lower floor and found two hallways blocked by locked metal gates. One had a draft that carried the faint scents of oil and spices, and he could hear distant voices occasionally. It probably led to the kitchens and the area where the groundlings who took care of the house lived. The other hall was quiet and he suspected it might lead to the stairwell down to the lower parts of the structure. It was confirmation that he was a prisoner, though a pampered one.
When he wandered back into the main stairwell hall, the little blue groundling walked out of a wide doorway, saw him, and let out a squawk of alarm. Before it could panic further, Moon said, “Where’s Ceilinel?”
It took a breath, steadied itself, and said, “This way.”