“It’s not that far to the forest coast,” Moon said, and then remembered that the leviathan might have been much further out to sea. And that maybe he shouldn’t seem to know exactly how far it was to the forest coast.
But Orlis said, “Not the journey to the coast, the journey inland.”
Esom said, with a faint sneer, “You probably won’t understand this, but our ship is capable of flight.”
“It’s a flying boat, a wind-ship?” Moon said, startled. “It has a sustainer?” That… explained a lot. Why Ardan had needed these people, why he couldn’t simply have gone with his own men. How they made it over the forest floor without being killed, how they had gotten up to the knothole entrance. The Kek hadn’t seen the ship, but then most of them had been on the other side of the tree in hiding. They didn’t see our flying boats either. It didn’t explain why they had bothered to open the tree’s root entrance, but maybe they hadn’t been able to keep the heavier metal ship that high in the air long enough for everyone to disembark.
Esom was blank with astonishment. “Uh… it’s not called a sustainer, but—”
“Apparently a civilization called the Golden Isles also has flying craft,” Negal told Esom kindly. He turned to Moon. “I wanted to ask you—”
Moon heard a door open and three people approach briskly down the hall. The others immediately fell silent and waited tensely. One of Bialin’s servants appeared in the doorway with two guards. He was an older blue-pearl man with a harried expression, and under his perfume he smelled of fear-sweat. To Negal’s group, he said, “The Magister wants you for the evening meal in three callings of the hour.”
Nobody seemed horrified, so Moon assumed the man didn’t mean that the way it sounded. Then the servant looked at Moon and, in a tone that conveyed how doubtful he found this, added, “The summons includes you.”
Apparently Ardan’s invitations didn’t normally include scruffy foreign traders who came to sell information. Moon was certain this one included him because of one thing: Ardan wanted more seeds. If I can just get him to show me the one he already has.
Chapter Eleven
The dinner was odd, though not as fraught for Moon as the one at Emerald Twilight.
It was held in a large room a few levels above the guest quarters. Giant carved images of dour blue-pearl groundlings stared down from the walls, all more than thirty paces high, some forming columns supporting the arched ceiling. Their expressions gave Moon the impression that was he was being watched with disapproval, but he felt like that a lot, so it was probably just him. There was a small pool with a fountain at one end of the room for show, not for drinking or swimming. The large hearth at the other end was big enough to roast a bando-hopper. Like the one down near the guest rooms, it was unlit.
For the dinner, polished stone benches were arranged around a low marble-topped table at the hearth end of the room. They were draped with fine linen and softened with brocaded cushions. The heavy furniture wasn’t fastened to the floor, but Moon noticed the table had ridges carved in it to help keep the plates and cups from sliding. Efficient servants placed the food on the table. Unlike the party in the other tower Moon had spied on, Ardan apparently only hired young male blue-pearl groundlings.
Negal and his people were the only other guests, sitting uncomfortably around on the benches. From remarks Moon overheard from the servants, Ardan had a family stashed away somewhere in the tower. He just didn’t let them mix with his “guests.”
As the food was served, Ardan spoke with Negal, mostly about the cities along the coast that Negal’s ship had visited. The other three just sat there and ate mostly in silence, looking and acting like captives, grim and suspicious. Negal spoke easily enough, but his eyes were weary, as if the conversation was just another facet of his captivity. Moon told himself it was foolish to feel sorry for them. So they say they were tricked into going to the Reaches. They had still helped loot the colony tree.
The food was far better than what had been on offer at the market. There were several unfamiliar varieties of preserved fruit, different types of fish and shellfish cooked in various sauces, and sweet breads that had to be almost as expensive as the fruit, since the grain would all have to be shipped in. Moon didn’t have to force himself to eat. It was all so good he could have finished everything on the table, but he managed to confine himself to only two servings. The wine they had been provided with had no effect on him, but he drank it anyway.
As the meal came to an end, Ardan toyed with his goblet and said, “I’ve invited other guests, who should be arriving soon.” The others were sitting upright on the benches; Moon took a cue from Ardan and lounged back on the cushions with his wine goblet. It was easier to pretend to be relaxed that way. His apparent ease made Esom stare at him in annoyance.
“Showing us off again?” Karsis said to Ardan, affecting boredom in a deliberate way. She jerked her head toward Moon. “Or your new acquisition?”
“My guests are all seekers of knowledge,” Ardan answered mildly. “But I’m afraid they’re more interested in my collections than in intellectual discourse.” Esom snorted in derision, and was ignored. Then Ardan turned to Moon, and asked, “How did you come to be on your expedition to the forest?”
Good question, Moon thought. “The Islanders were hiring hands. I needed the work.”
“The Golden Islands are not your home, then?”
The Islanders were all like Niran, smaller people, with golden skin and white hair like silken floss. Niran had said the maps aboard the Valendera didn’t range this far, but Ardan might know more about the eastern region than he pretended. “No. I was working on a Yellow Sea trading barge that came to port there. The expedition offered better pay.”
“But more danger.”
Moon shrugged. “They didn’t explain that part.”
Ardan chuckled indulgently. “Sometimes a little deception furthers the course of scholarly pursuits.”
Karsis stared, Esom and Orlis exchanged an incredulous look, and even Negal’s stoic expression turned sardonic. Apparently oblivious, Ardan asked Moon, “Where do you come from?”
“The east, near the gulf of Abascene.” This was, technically, true, and Abascene had the extra benefit of being even further from here than the Yellow Sea. “The place we were living was destroyed by Fell, turns ago. I left with the other refugees and I’ve been traveling ever since.” This wasn’t quite as true but Moon had lived in enough places that had been destroyed by the Fell to supply convincing details, if he needed to.
Ardan frowned in thought, as if honestly interested. That wasn’t something Moon had expected. Ardan said, “I’ve heard of the Fell, but never seen one.”
“You’re lucky.” Moon decided it was time he asked a question in return. “Why did you go to the Reaches?”
Ardan lifted his brows as if amused by Moon’s presumption. Moon suspected the conversations with Negal and the others tended to be onesided. Ardan answered, “I was curious. I had heard intriguing things about the area.”
Esom said abruptly, “What are the Fell?”
Moon felt his jaw tighten; a dramatic change of subject was exactly what he didn’t need. Ardan gestured for him to answer, and he said, reluctantly, “They’re shapeshifters that travel in large flights. They eat people and burn cities because they enjoy it.” He had everyone’s attention; even Karsis had lost her cynical expression. “Some are as big as the sea monster hanging down in the first floor hall. Others are smaller than you. When they shift, they look like ordinary groundlings. One could walk through the streets of this city and no one would know.”