Jade felt her jaw go tight. “They think you lie about your dead.” She let go of Kalam’s wrist so she wouldn’t squeeze too hard.
“They think we had some battle with the Hians, over the artifacts from the city.” He hesitated, then reluctantly admitted, “They didn’t believe Esankel or Rasal because they’re Janderi. I’m the only high-ranking Janderan left. It isn’t like that in Kedmar, where we live, but this is a provincial city, mostly Janderan, and they know the Hians as friendly traders. If Magrim, or Kellimdar, had survived . . .” He made a frustrated gesture. “I don’t know if they think I’m lying or deluded.”
The Hians had killed Magrim outright, to keep him from using his skill as a horticultural to track their flying boat, and Jade had felt certain that Vendoin was also responsible for Kellimdar’s death. He had been given the same poison as the Kish who had survived, but there was nothing to show that something else hadn’t been forced down his throat once he was unconscious. Kellimdar was on the same level of authority as Callumkal, and if he had been with Kalam to support him and second his accusation of Vendoin and the Hians, they probably wouldn’t be having this conversation. She began, “We need to get out of here before they—”
Then Malachite was suddenly standing beside them.
Kalam flinched, and Jade managed not to hiss. Malachite was a head taller than Jade and broader in the shoulder, and it should have been impossible for her to approach so closely without Jade knowing. Yet here she was.
Jade said, “You heard all that?” Of course she heard all that. Malachite’s scales were a dark green, webbed over with a layer of scar tissue that obscured her web of secondary color, and she faded into the shadows. All queens could keep other consorts, warriors, and Arbora from shifting, but Jade had never encountered a queen who could use her mental connections to other Raksura in the ways Malachite could. She had never encountered another queen who had needed to do what Malachite had done to save her court.
Malachite moved one spine in a way Jade knew by now meant assent. All Malachite’s concentrated attention was on Kalam. “Do they know there are Raksura here?”
“Yes.” Kalam was a little accustomed to Malachite by now, and Raksura in general, and managed to bear the scrutiny. “I had to tell them, to explain what had happened. I told them about the Fell, too. Not the half-Fell,” he added hastily. “I didn’t know how to explain it, and Rorra thought it best not to, that it would just confuse them.”
Good for Rorra, Jade thought. They were in enough trouble as it was. “We need to get out of here.”
“Not through the groundling city,” Malachite said. She tilted her head toward Jade. “We’ll fly out to sea, toward the barrier islands we passed, and the wind-ship can meet us there.”
Jade managed not to say that she had thought of that already. She turned to call up to Briar, “Go tell the warriors to get ready. Tell them to leave nothing behind, we won’t be coming back to this boat. We’re going to the Golden Isles wind-ship.”
Briar jumped down to the walkway and headed for the nearest hatch, and Kalam’s shoulders slumped in relief. Maybe he had nursed a suspicious fear that the Raksura would desert him, too.
Since the Hians had betrayed them, things had been tense with Kalam. He was Callumkal’s son, and young to be facing the abduction of his parent and the responsibility for trying to get help from the other Kish-Jandera. The deaths of the crew who hadn’t survived the poison had been hard enough for him. It had just made the situation worse to find out that the foundation builder artifact that the Hians had plotted to steal had been brought aboard the sunsailer by the Raksura, even if it was inadvertent. Then Jade had had to tell him that most of the Raksura could speak Kedaic, that she had ordered the others to deliberately deceive the Kish-Jandera because she hadn’t trusted Callumkal’s motives. That hadn’t been an easy conversation.
It had been better before Moon and Stone had left; Kalam trusted Moon more than he did her.
Now Jade met his gaze and said, “We’ll find your father, Kalam. And Delin, and Bramble and Merit. I swear to you I’ll be standing with you when we find the Hians.”
Kalam looked away for an instant, to gather himself. He conquered the emotion, then said firmly, “I’ll tell Rorra. I need to give the crew their travel funds, buy supplies for the wind-ship. We have to hurry. I’ll send Sarandel to Niran and Diar at the air docks to tell them where to meet us—” He headed down the deck.
Jade faced Malachite, who looked out over the harbor, eyes narrowed. Jade had been around her enough not to take the lack of attention as an insult. Malachite was not a normal queen anymore than Moon was a normal consort. Malachite said, “Is there time for his preparations?”
Jade said, “I think so. It sounds as if the Kishan here underestimate him so much they think he’ll sit here on this boat and keep begging them for help.” She had never wanted to count on aid from Kish, the way Rorra and the other groundlings had. After the Hians’ betrayal, Jade hadn’t wanted to count on anything but her own warriors and the Golden Islanders, who were proven allies with their own stake in finding the Hians. “The sooner we can get away from here, the sooner we can catch up to Moon and Stone at the swampling port.”
Malachite tilted her head to eye her. “You expected me to object to that.”
Jade had been surprised when Malachite agreed to the plan; sending two consorts off alone to scout after murderous groundlings in strange territory was so unheard of as to be impossible for most Raksura to contemplate. Moon should be back at the colony with his clutch, guarded by warriors and Arbora. Stone, as a line-grandfather, had more license for his behavior, but Jade felt sure no one in any Raksuran court had ever contemplated this much license. But they didn’t have a choice.
Jade knew Moon had come to see Malachite as a powerful ally, but she still wasn’t sure how Malachite saw him. Their relationship was different from anything between a birthqueen and the only surviving consort of her last clutch ought to be. For most of his life Moon had thought his birthcourt had been wiped out. No, for most of his life Moon hadn’t had a clue that anything like a court existed, she reminded herself. Jade said, “It did surprise me, but then I don’t know what you think about anything, least of all my consort.”
Malachite moved her spines so slightly Jade wasn’t sure if it was indicating anything or they had been stirred by the breeze. “At the moment Moon’s experience is far more valuable than his ability to breed, and we do not have the luxury of pretending that he is anything other than what he is.”
Jade reminded herself that from Malachite that wasn’t an insult. She forced her spines and claws to relax, and made herself say, evenly, “I’m glad we’re in agreement on that.”
South of Gwalish Mar
Some distance outside the port city, Moon and Stone found a ruined statue that was so worn by weather and vines all you could see was that it had four legs and was crouching. Though the body was protected a little by the heavy growth of trees around it, the head was above the canopy and had worn down to a featureless ball. A cavity that had been knocked in its chest at some point made a good place to rest. It was padded with turns worth of palm leaves and rotting vegetation, and Moon was so exhausted he slept the rest of the night curled against Stone’s side.
He woke at dawn, and crawled out of their nest to sit on the edge of the cavity. The air was cool and damp, laced with the scent of the sea and the swampling city. Stone was still deeply asleep, and Moon felt bleary and half-conscious. It was a sure sign they were both short on food.