Moon managed to stand, one leg tingling as circulation returned, and limped down the passage to the stern hold. Shade and Lithe trailed after him. The deck creaked overhead as the kethel stirred restlessly.
In the hold, Chime and Floret were just sitting up. They had both shifted to groundling, and were bleary and confused. “We fell asleep.” Chime yawned. “Is the air better?”
“The Fell opened the sac.” Moon crouched beside the cut section and felt it to see how much was left to go. Two sides of the square were finished, and the third had about a pace left. He leaned on it with both hands and applied his full groundling weight; it gave a little, but didn’t seem like it was ready to tear or break. But they wouldn’t need to do the whole section, just enough to push the flap down. They could always pour the oil out if they had to, but he thought knocking holes in the casks and dropping them would spread it faster, and prevent the Fell from stopping the fire before it was too late.
Then Saffron ducked into the hold, her spines flared. “More Fell just landed on the deck. A ruler spoke through the hatch, said they want to see Shade.”
Moon hissed a curse. They had just run out of time. They all stared at Shade. He stared back, startled. Then his spines shivered, and he said, reluctantly, “We can’t take the chance that they’ll come down here and see this. I have to go up on deck.”
“I’ll go with you,” Moon said. Chime stirred as if he might protest, but said nothing.
Shade took a deep breath. “You don’t have to.”
Yes, Moon did. He said, “They’ll expect it, because I did before.”
They left the others waiting anxiously, and started down the passage.
At the base of the steps, Shade stopped, his spines flicking in agitation. He squeezed his eyes shut, steeling himself. “Do you think they’re going to make me… do that again?”
After last time, the Fell knew Shade would do anything to protect the other Raksura, and there was no reason for them not to use that advantage. And there was no point in lying about it. “Probably.”
Shade made a noise somewhere between a hiss and a moan of despair. “At least the groundlings are dead. It doesn’t hurt them.”
Fell liked their prey to be freshly killed. There might have been captive Aventerans alive somewhere in the nest, kept for the next meal. Moon wasn’t going to tell Shade that.
They went up on deck, and Moon pushed the hatch closed behind them. It was hard to tell if there was still an opening in the sac somewhere or not. The light through the membrane was dim and murky, but while the air wasn’t fresh, it wasn’t painful to breathe, either.
As they stepped cautiously out from behind the steering cabin, Moon saw their kethel guard half-curled around the mast. Its legs and arms hung over the rails, and the big ugly horned head rested on the deck. Its eyes were slits, watching them with interest. Thedes stood near it, and dakti perched on the railings like particularly ugly carrion birds.
Thedes smiled at Shade. “We would speak with you again.”
Shade twitched nervously. Maybe he had been hoping, up to this moment, that the ruler wanted something else. “And you’ll kill the others if I don’t come, I know.”
“You make us sound cruel,” Thedes said, with complete conviction.
“Cruel?” Shade hissed. “Why do you have to make it sound like everything you do to us is our fault?”
Thedes didn’t answer that one. He said, “This time, the other consort will stay behind.”
Moon felt a rush of relief, then a rush of guilt for it. The Fell knew he had an influence on Shade, and they didn’t want him present for whatever persuasion they were planning. “Shade…” He couldn’t say “Don’t do what they want,” when refusing to cooperate with the Fell might get one or more of the others killed. What he wanted to say was “Remember you’re a Raksura,” even knowing it was stupid and would probably damage Shade’s resolve more than it would steady it.
“It’s all right.” Shade swallowed back fear. He met Moon’s gaze and said, “I know who I am.” Then he turned, and followed Thedes over the rail.
They sprang to the first web-like support, then the next, disappearing into the dimness in the direction of the nest.
The kethel made a deep noise of amusement. Moon snarled and went back down to the hold, careful to slide the hatch closed behind him.
The others gathered nervously in the passage. He led them further down into the boat, in case the kethel was listening. “Did they say what they wanted?” Lithe whispered.
“No.” Moon reminded himself that this didn’t change their plans. “We need to keep working. When Shade comes back, we’ll use the weapon.”
But Shade didn’t come back.
They finished cutting the third side of the panel, all but the thin layer that held it in place. The oil casks and the fire weapon stood ready. The day wore on into evening, and they sat in the big cabin, and waited.
Lithe covered her eyes. “What could they be doing to him?”
No one wanted to answer that question. Moon just said, “If we’re right about what they want, they need him alive.” He didn’t think the Fell would kill Shade, not after all these turns of trying to create or find a crossbreed Raksura. But he was desperately afraid of what the Fell’s guide wanted with him, and what the Fell would do to him in the meantime.
Chime twitched uncomfortably. “Maybe they’re trying to… convert him. They think he’s one of them—”
“He’s not one of them,” Saffron snapped.
They all stared at her blankly, and she hissed at them. “We were in the nurseries together with him, and Lithe, and the others. The crossbreeds. We played together, ate together, slept together. There’s nothing different about them, except the way they look.”
Her voice choked with emotion, Lithe said, “It’s all right.”
“It’s not all right.” Saffron hunched her shoulders. “He’s a consort of my court. I should have protected him. Onyx and Malachite—Ivory—What would they say to me?”
Saffron looked so despairing, Moon had to quell an impulse to try to comfort her. He didn’t think she would appreciate it.
Wearily, Floret said, “Moon, what should we do? What if he doesn’t come back? If the Fell show up and kill us all before we can destroy the sac…”
Moon groaned under his breath. He knew it wasn’t the right decision, but he just couldn’t do it. It didn’t make sense; it shouldn’t matter whether they all died together or separately. But it did matter. He had to give Shade more time. “We’ll wait until morning.”
No one slept much, and the time passed so slowly Moon almost wished for the bad air again, that had made it so easy to slip into unconsciousness. The morning came, and as the sun rose higher in the sky somewhere outside the sac, Moon knew they couldn’t wait any longer. He said, “We have to do this now.”
The others looked bleak, but no one objected. Chime sighed and reached for the saw. “I’ll start—” Then Chime dropped the saw and reeled over, clutching his head.
Moon grabbed for his shoulders, easing him to the floor, his first instinct that Chime had somehow cut himself badly, though how he had managed it was a mystery. Lithe must have thought so too because she jumped up and elbowed Moon aside to lean over Chime.
But Chime gasped, “I heard it, the voice. It’s close now. It knows the Fell are here, it can—Ow!” He wrenched away from Lithe, pushed himself up, and shook his head furiously, then pressed his hands to his temples.
“Chime—” Moon began, and Lithe hushed him hurriedly. She said, “I’m not sure what he’s doing, but I feel like we should let him do it.”