His biggest problem, of course, was not the reason he had been brought to this strange court. His biggest problem was that he wasn’t thinking clearly, and the uncertainty about Jade and Indigo Cloud had driven him right out of his mind. He hadn’t been thinking clearly since Tempest and Zephyr had arrived at Indigo Cloud. At least you know that now. But knowing what was wrong with him didn’t cure it.
Even now, nervous energy made his skin itch. He could just leap out the window into the central well, but he wanted to see what would happen if he tried to walk out. He jumped down from the alcove and went down the stairs to the consorts’ hall.
He found it still occupied by several Arbora, who all looked up, startled at his sudden appearance. A few were sewing or making braided cords, and one had a book open on her lap, but this couldn’t be the place where they normally gathered. Russet, the Arbora who had challenged Tempest, sat near the hearth.
Moon ignored them and circled around to head toward the doorway.
Two actually jumped to their feet, and Russet said hurriedly, “Where are you going? I mean, is there something you need? We can get it for you.”
Moon stopped and looked around the room, making it deliberate. Several Arbora avoided meeting his eyes. “Am I a prisoner?”
It was unfair, since they had given him a bower with a window, but they were either too disconcerted to think of that reply or too polite to say it aloud. Some shook their heads, others murmured demurs, and Russet said, “No, of course not!”
Moon walked out, thinking for an instant they would just let him go. Then half of them, including Russet, got up and followed him.
Inwardly seething, Moon started to turn toward the inward-leading corridor.
Russet offered, “There’s a passage out to the floor of the central well. Would you like to see it?”
At least they weren’t trying to insist he stay cooped up. He nodded, and a relieved Russet led the way.
The passage took them to a downward ramp and eventually opened to an archway into the huge space of the well.
Moon walked out onto a broad platform carpeted with thick grasses and tiny purple and blue flowers. Sunlight shafted down from splits in the trunk high overhead, caught as sparkles in the spray from the waterfall. To one side, tall stone-lined steps led up to the rim of the reservoir. Moon went that way and climbed up to walk along the rim. The Arbora didn’t follow, but settled down on the grass platform and resumed their tasks.
The water was clear enough to show that the pool was stocked with shellfish, little green crabs, and big snails. Delicate, glittery insects buzzed around stands of reed, and a viny water plant with big red globes floated just below the surface.
Moon followed the rim around the pool, the smooth stone cool under his feet. There were larger rocks placed around the edge, for sitting and landing, scarred by turns and turns of claws. On the far side he had a good view of the lower part of the hall, which had broader terraces with more gardens. Several Arbora moved along them, weeding or checking on the progress of their plantings. On the platform not far below the lake were fern trees with long broad fronds, the kind that grew nuts that could be ground up to make a spice.
There were people down there too, but not Arbora. They were tall, slim, dressed in dark colors. Seven warriors, all male, sitting or standing at the base of a tree, talking. Watching them, Moon saw the glitter of bright metal. Some of them were wearing bracelets, one a flat pectoral necklace, another had the glint of gold studs around his ears. Warriors didn’t often wear jewelry like that, not when they weren’t dressed up for a special occasion. Those are consorts.
Moon knew just enough to realize it would be rude to shift and dive down there like he was stooping on prey. He took the nearest path off the reservoir’s rim, a set of artfully placed stones leading down. He made it to a curving garden platform just above the trees, only six paces or so above the lower terrace, an easy jump down even in his groundling form.
He had just reached the grassy edge of the terrace when one of the consorts spotted him and alerted the others with a warning hiss. Moon stopped, close enough to see they were all his age or younger. Most matched Umber’s heavier build, red-brown hair, and lighter gold coloring, but three had dark hair and dark bronze skin, and were lean and lanky and sharp-featured. Seeing them all together like this, Moon suddenly understood how other Raksura could tell he wasn’t from one of Indigo Cloud’s bloodlines, could see the faint differences in coloring and build and feature, how a queen like Ice of Emerald Twilight might be able to add up all these slight factors to identify his bloodline.
They all stared back at him, blankly startled, and no one said anything. Deciding it was up to him, Moon took a breath to speak.
Almost as one, they all shifted, the sudden whoosh of displaced air enough to make him stumble backward. Leaping into the air, they were away in moments, and flew down the length of the well toward a broad balcony in the upper side of the trunk.
Moon stood there, stunned. Sick hurt settled over him like a blanket.
He looked up to see it had happened in full view of the Arbora working on the garden terraces above. Now they were all industriously hunched over, studying random plants or their baskets or the ground, whatever was handy, with an embarrassed air that clearly said they had seen everything.
He turned away, climbed slowly back up to the reservoir’s edge, and sat down on one of the stones around the rim. He wasn’t even sure why it hurt so much; it certainly wasn’t the first time he had been rejected by Raksura at first sight. It wasn’t even the first time he had been rejected at first sight in this colony. But they’re related to you, and they have to know it. They had to know the story, too, and that he had never been a solitary by choice.
He sat there a while, watching the stick insects skate across the water, when he heard someone leap up the steps at the far end of the rim.
He looked up to see a green Arbora just climbing onto the stones around the reservoir’s edge. She saw him and shifted to her groundling form. She was about Russet’s age, and like her she had dark bronze skin, but her hair was brown and curly, tied back with a beaded scarf. She was wearing a light blue dress, the sleeves rolled up and the hem knotted so it didn’t hang past her knees. She bolted toward him, her feet slapping the stone paving.
Moon stood, baffled, as she stumbled to a halt a few paces away. She said, “I just heard—They said you were with two Arbora children who were killed by Tath—Leaf and Fern?”
“Oh.” Moon felt a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. “Leaf had yellow-brown scales, Fern was dark green…”
“That’s them.” She took a sharp breath. “They were from my last clutch.”
They stared at one another a moment. Moon’s throat had gone dry. The Arbora distractedly pushed her curls back. “Who were the other two? I didn’t—”
“Bliss and Light.”
She nodded. “Their mother was Fair. She didn’t make it out of the colony. Neither did Yarrow. He was Fern and Leaf’s sire. That was our first clutch together. I don’t know about Bliss and Light’s sire, I’ll have to ask around. Not many of the soldiers and hunters made it out.” She blinked, and sat down suddenly on the paving.
Moon stood for a moment, unable to think of anything to say. All the words seemed to stick in his throat. Moving tentatively, he sat down beside her. She smelled of sweet herbs, and of fledglings and babies; she must be a teacher. He hoped she didn’t want him to go. Here was a living tie to his real family. “What’s your name?”
She rubbed her face, as if trying to push away the memories. “Sorry, I’m Feather.” She patted his knee absently. “I took care of you in the nurseries, when you were small enough to tuck under my arm.” As Moon was mentally reeling from that, she added, “They said there was a warrior with you? I didn’t recognize the name.”