Moon stood still, listening to Bialin and the guards move away, then he tasted the air. It wasn’t stale, though not terribly fresh, and clouded with the scent of the local perfumes and of unfamiliar groundlings.
When the anteroom sounded empty, he opened the door and stepped out. The heavy double doors to the stairwell were closed. Moon moved close enough to hear the breathing and faint restless movement of at least two guards stationed on the other side. He turned down the hallway, toward the sound of voices.
The doorways he passed all had the gap at the top, and he didn’t hear any movement within, but there were low voices somewhere ahead. Then the hall curved and an archway opened into a larger room.
Like the rest of the tower, it was grim, high-ceilinged, and cold, but it looked a little more like a place people actually lived in. The vapor-lights were suspended over cushioned couches. There was a circular hearth in the center, with a slate-sheathed chimney that stretched up into the high ceiling. Negal, two other men, and a woman sat on a couch and a couple of stools, having an anxious, whispered conversation. They all looked to be from the same race of groundlings as Negal, and all dressed in the same type of clothes, pants, shirts, and jackets, thick soft material or knits.
It took them a moment to notice Moon, standing silently in the doorway. When they did, one man started in alarm and fell off his stool. The others stared at Moon. Moon stared back.
Negal recovered first, saying in Kedaic, “This is Niran, the explorer I was telling you about.”
The man still on the couch dug a small object of glass and wire out of his jacket pocket. They were spectacles, lenses meant to go over the eyes; Moon had seen them used in Kish. The man put them on and stared at Moon some more. He had stringy dark hair and a belligerent expression.
Negal cleared his throat. “This is Esom, our deviser, and Orlis, his assistant.” Orlis was the one who had fallen off the stool. He was younger, with thinner features, a more diffident expression. “And Karsis Vale, our physician.” She had long curly hair tied back under a dark cap. Her features were sharp, and her sober clothes didn’t quite fit, making her look gawky and awkward. She also wore spectacles like Esom, which made Moon think there was a resemblance. The Kedaic word for physician meant the same thing as the Altanic healer, but Moon had no idea what a deviser was.
“He won’t let you leave, you know,” Karsis said, tense and a little angry, either at Ardan or Moon or both.
“He will if he wants to find the ruin,” Moon said, moving to the center hearth and sitting down on the stone rim. He didn’t have to fake an air of unconcern. Escaping was something he would worry about after he found the seed. He would probably worry really hard about it at that point, but not just at the moment.
“That’s what we thought,” Esom said with bitter emphasis.
There was another archway in the far wall, open to a corridor, but it looked like it just circled around toward the main foyer. The hearth was more promising. The stone-lined bowl in the center was set up to burn some sort of oil, though it was unlit now. He leaned back and looked up the chimney. That’s a possibility. “Is that your metal ship, down in the harbor?” If these weren’t the thieves, he would let River call himself First Consort.
“Yes,” Negal answered, his voice sharp with interest. “It’s still there?”
Moon said, “It was yesterday,” and they all turned to each other, talking in their own language again, agitated but keeping their voices low. Moon sat back and looked them over. They weren’t quite what he had been expecting, and he couldn’t decide why. “Did Ardan hire you to go to the eastern coast and loot the Reaches?”
They all stared again, and Esom actually seemed offended. “We didn’t loot anything,” he said tightly, “And we weren’t hired by Ardan, we’re his prisoners. He’s killed five members of our crew.”
That was no more and probably much less than they deserved. Moon glanced at Negal, and said carefully, “Ardan seemed interested in those wooden seed things. You found some?”
Negal hesitated, his lips pursed, as if trying to decide whether to answer. But Orlis nodded glumly and said, “We found one. Ardan wanted it—” Esom hit him in the shoulder. “Why are you talking to him?”
Orlis winced away and gave him an irritated glare. “Why not?” he said, with more life in his voice. “What does it matter to us? We’re still stuck here.”
Karsis stirred, saying thoughtfully, “Maybe if Ardan knows where to find more of the things, he’ll send us after them.”
Moon looked down, scuffed at the gray tile with his worn fish-skin boot. So close. It wouldn’t be in these rooms, where Ardan kept his guests/prisoners. He could ask where it was, but that would just make him look like exactly what he was, a thief who had tricked his way in here to steal from Ardan’s collection. He thought he had already shown too much interest in it. He didn’t want these people trading him to Ardan for their freedom. Better to keep them talking about themselves. “Why is he holding you prisoner? What did you do to him?”
Orlis started. Karsis stared at Moon, lips thin with annoyance. Esom took a breath for an angry answer, but Negal stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. Negal said wearily, “We did nothing to him. Apparently he finds us… interesting company.”
So Ardan had collected them, as well. Moon didn’t feel terribly sympathetic. They weren’t dead and stuffed, and if not for them he would be back at Indigo Cloud Court in a bower with Jade, making clutches. Trying to keep the irony out of his voice, he said, “What makes you so interesting?”
Negal watched him for a moment, as if trying to decide if Moon wanted a serious answer or not. Finally he said, “We come from a land far to the west. It lies atop a tall plateau, isolated by boiling seas, impassable cliffs, rocky expanses with steam vents and chasms. We had legends of other lands, other peoples, but they were only legends. No one believed it was possible to leave our plateau. Or that if we did leave, we would find nothing but an endless lifeless sea.” He smiled ruefully. “We thought the boundaries of our little existence formed the entire world.”
Esom slumped, anger giving way to resignation. He muttered, “The plateau is not that small. It’s four thousand pathres across, easily.”
Negal continued, “Our Philosophical Society had long been exploring different methods of leaving the plateau as an intellectual exercise. Until we discovered one that actually seemed to have a chance of success. We built prototypes, experimented, and finally developed the Klodifore, the metal ship you saw in the harbor. Our crew of volunteers sailed away on what we thought would be a voyage of great discovery.”
Karsis touched his hand. “It has been that.” Defensively, she added to Moon, “We traveled for six months with no real trouble, visiting the different civilizations along the coast, learning this language so we could communicate. Then we ran into this island.”
Esom said, “Literally. We were plotting a course back across the sea toward home, and the leviathan swam into sight. So we decided to stop and see what kind of people lived on it.” He sounded so bitterly ashamed of the decision, it was likely he was the one who had pressed for it.
All right, so their story was more interesting than Moon had thought. “Then why did you go to the Reaches with Ardan?”
Orlis said bleakly, “He tricked us. He courted us, showed us things in his collections, talked about the trip he was planning to study the strange creatures who lived in the forest Reaches.” He shrugged. “He said it was a long way, and that as a magister he could only spend so much time away from the leviathan or the city would be in danger. Our ship was the only one that could make the journey in a short time.”