Edge of Worlds (The Books of the Raksura) (20 page)

Jade’s expression made it clear that she didn’t see this as a benefit. “Just be careful.”

Callumkal had told his own crew that if they left the boat, they must stay in the vicinity of the market around the base of the tower. Moon had heard a few complaints about this, but the fact that the boat was meant to leave by late afternoon had reconciled most of them.

Several Kishan left after Callumkal’s group, and Moon and Stone gave them a chance to get a little way ahead, and then followed.

Walking down the tower’s ramp, they had a good view of the city. Moon had spotted grasseater-drawn carts from the air, but at this distance he could see that the grasseaters weren’t the big furred or armored mammals he was used to seeing used as draught animals, but big flightless birds. They towered over the groundlings, easily twenty to thirty paces high, and their feathers looked more like shells or plates. Tall crests of that hard metallic plumage obscured the shape of their heads, but their beaks looked long and sharp. “Are the groundlings here out of their minds?” Moon muttered.

Stone said, “They might not be meat-eaters.”

Moon snorted. Flightless birds that size were usually meat-eaters.

The buildings between the towers were constructed of combinations of stone blocks and sun-bleached wood, with shells embedded as decorations. They had large windows and doorways, slatted shutters open to catch the breeze, and most of them seemed to be part of a market complex that stretched between the docking towers and this end of the harbor. The roads were white, and from the other port cities along the Crescent Sea that Moon had been to, he knew they would be shells crushed into fine powder and packed down so tightly that they didn’t move much underfoot. It would be smooth enough for easy walking and for the wagons and hideous bird-things.

The groundlings, at least the ones Moon could spot from here, were enough of a mix of different species so that Moon and Stone, and the Kish-Jandera for that matter, shouldn’t draw much attention. Near the base of the tower, Moon spotted short green-skinned groundlings with round bodies and lumps for heads, tall skinny dark-skinned ones with long manes of white hair extending down their backs, and gray-skinned ones with long heads and weirdly-jointed limbs.

As they came around the last curve it was obvious that the nearest buildings all seemed to be selling food, and the smell of frying oil and grilled fish and sugar hung in the air. Moon’s stomach grumbled, even though he wasn’t hungry; groundling food tended to affect him that way. Callumkal and the others went past the food stalls and Moon stopped by a pillar at the base of the ramp to watch them.

The tower was on higher ground and the slight elevation let him see that the Kishan were taking a turn off the main road into a compound of larger, more substantial buildings. From the wrapped bundles, bags, and crates piled up in the yard, it was a trading factor and was probably where Callumkal meant to buy supplies. Moon turned to say that to Stone, and found Stone had disappeared.

Moon gritted his teeth to suppress an annoyed hiss.
This went wrong fast
. But a moment later, Stone stepped out of a food stall across from the end of the ramp. Relieved, Moon went to meet him.

Stone had a paper wrap filled with fried lumps of something that smelled so good it made Moon’s prey reflex twitch. Stone said, “Want some?”

“No.” Moon was still mad about that moment of worry Stone had given him. “How did you buy it?”

“Traded an opal.” At Moon’s incredulous expression, he said, exasperated, “They change currency for trade too. They gave me a sack of metal bits that are good in most of the trading ports around here.”

Moon grimaced in annoyance. “You don’t go to the first place. They’ll charge more than the others further away.”

Stone sighed with weary patience. None of the Raksura understood trading or barter the way groundlings did it, and none of them understood why Moon cared. None of them had ever been stuck in a groundling city where they had to trade for food or not eat. Stone said, “So? If we need more metal bits, we’ll get more.” He held out the paper again and this time Moon gave in and took one. They were fried lumps of sweet dough, crunchy on the outside and soft on the inside.

Chewing, Moon said, “Callumkal and the others went to a trading factor over there.” He turned in time to see Kalam walk out of the compound’s entrance and head down the road toward the docks.

“Now where’s he going?” Stone said, eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

Moon took another piece of fried dough. They had speculated that one of the Kishan close to the expedition might have been infected by the Fell, might be spying for a ruler without knowing it. “Let’s see.”

They set off at an easy pace, following Kalam at a distance.

Fortunately there were just enough groundlings out on the street to blend in with, but not so many that it was hard to keep track of Kalam. Most of the groundlings were going in and out of the market stalls, or occupied with moving cargo toward the port on the giant bird-thing carts. The gray people with the weirdly-jointed limbs were even stranger close up, with bulging eyes that were set wide apart. No one seemed unduly interested in Moon and Stone, or Kalam for that matter, beyond the occasional curious glance. Moon had always preferred this type of groundling city, where everyone was occupied with their own business and expected to see different species. He hated any place where he was stared at, hated to be singled out for scrutiny that might lead to suspicion that might lead to fleeing for his life.

The ground sloped slightly as it curved down toward the harbor. Over the low rooftops, Moon spotted the masts of the larger ships and the jungle-covered peaks of the closer islands. They circled a group of groundlings unloading a wagon, the bird-thing turning its head to glare as they passed. The road curved around another large cargo yard and opened out into the harbor front, a maze of walkways built atop the piled-up rocks covering the beach.

The wind was stronger here and heavier with the scents of salt and dead fish and sea wrack. At a set of docks a little way down, groundlings loaded or unloaded big sailing vessels, and several shallow-draft barges floated further out. Down toward the other end of the harbor, the walkways curved back from the beach and naked groundlings were playing in the waves. It was too bad they couldn’t bring the Arbora and the warriors down here, but there was no time, and they would want to shift and swim in their scaled forms. Even in a place like this, shifting would cause a riot.

One of the broader walkways led out to several interlinked docks built of the same material as the towers. They extended out away from the shallow area into the deeper water, and Moon thought at first that they led to low-lying barges. But a closer look showed that they were structures sitting in the water.

And Kalam was heading for the walkway. Moon said, “I think he’s going where we were going.”

“To see the sealings?” Stone leaned on a piling. “If he was meaning to follow us, he did a bad job of it.”

Kalam went along the walkway, pausing to watch a large vessel lowering its butterfly-shaped sails as it angled in toward the next set of docks. The boy didn’t look like he was doing anything surreptitious, and he didn’t look like he was being compelled to go to a Fell ruler, either. “I don’t think so. Callumkal told me about the sealing traders, I bet he told Kalam, too. Maybe he just came down here to see them.”

Stone made an annoyed noise. Kalam was moving again, out onto the docks with the trading station. Stone said, “Come on. If he’s sightseeing, we’re sightseeing, too.”

Moon followed, only a little reluctantly. If Kalam saw them he was sure to tell Callumkal, and Moon didn’t want the whole crew to know their business. Because Kalam wasn’t speaking to Fell didn’t mean no one else was.

They went down the walkway and out onto the first dock. Moon saw he was right; this was the same metallic stone as the towers. And the structures standing only a few paces above the waves were built of the same material. So whoever had built the towers had built the trading station for the sealings. Or for whatever had lived in the water back then.

Moon was prepared to wave and look innocent if Kalam glanced back and saw them, but Kalam headed for the outer dock, slipping past the other parties of groundlings. There were five structures partially above the water, and at least two further out that sat lower, their roofs just below the waves. The largest had heavy clear crystals set into windows along the sides, and two entrances, where stone steps led down into wells in the sides of the building. It also looked the most crowded, as both entrances were temporarily blocked, one by groundlings trying to carry large pottery jars down into the structure, the other by a Coastal who had a twisted leg joint and was being helped up the stairs by a companion.

The other groundlings on that part of the dock just milled around, waiting for the entrances to clear, but Kalam hesitated, then started for the smaller structures further down. “No,” Moon muttered, “he’s going to the wrong one.”

“What?” Stone squinted against the salt spray in the air.

“That’s the trading station.” Moon jerked his chin toward the large structure. “The one those groundlings are waiting to get into. I don’t know what those are.”

Those blocky structures were smaller, further underwater, and didn’t have any sky-lights. A few groundlings were going down into their stairwells, or making their way toward them along the dock. Moon’s instincts for navigating groundling cities had all been gained the hard way, and they told him that while the trading station looked like a relatively safe prospect, those places didn’t.

“Huh,” Stone commented, and strolled after Kalam.

Kalam picked the first structure he came to and started down the steps into the entrance well, which again didn’t bode well for the theory that he had been unconsciously compelled to meet a Fell ruler and wasn’t just exploring a strange city. Moon was half-inclined to give up on Kalam and just go to the trading station where they were more likely to hear news of the sel-Selatra. But Stone was already following Kalam down the stairs, so Moon suppressed an annoyed hiss and went after him.

It was dark inside after the bright morning sun, but Moon’s eyes adjusted quickly. It was a big oblong room, the walls light-colored, and there were long crystal windows, all below the surface so the light was dim and constantly changing as the waves crashed over the roof above. The artificial light came from glass lamps, placed on small shelves randomly studding the walls. Moon couldn’t tell what was inside the lamps, if it was magical illumination or just a glowing mineral or plant material, but the light was white and not strong. The air was intensely damp and the place was also bigger than it looked on the outside. This was only the first level, and Moon spotted Kalam’s head going down the circular stairwell in the middle of the floor.

There were only a few groundlings here, standing in groups and talking, and no one who looked like a sealing of any kind. A Coastal with patchy scales was selling cups of various caustic-scented liquids from a set of pottery urns in the far corner of the room, and that was the only activity taking place. Stone barely bothered to glance around and followed Kalam.

The stairs curved down into a bigger lower level, where the dim white light was even more murky and the view through the windows was darker, except for the occasional silver flicker of a fish, or little blue shellfish clinging to the crystal. There were more groundlings here, standing and talking or sitting on cushions on the floor. And finally there were sealings.

There were a dozen round pools cut into the floor that must have some passage outside, because the water scent was fresh and salty. The sealings swam or lounged on the edges of the pools, speaking to the groundlings gathered around. These were shallow-water sealings, able to breathe both above and below the surface. They had green scaled skin and long, dark green hair that looked like heavy lengths of water weed. Their hands and feet were heavily webbed and they had long prominent claws, and filmy fins along their arms and legs. Most were wearing jewelry, unpolished lumps of pearl and jasper in nets of braided cord. “Finally,” Stone muttered, and wandered into the crowd, headed for the pools.

There were Coastals selling various things, mostly more caustic drinks and little glass cups that emitted vapor and were meant to be held under the nose. It competed with the more attractive scents of the water and the sealings themselves.

Moon looked for Kalam and spotted him partway across the room. Most of the crowd was dressed in lighter fabrics, and Kalam’s reddish brown skin and dark hair stood out among all the grays and greens. He was trying to circle around a group to get closer to the pools, but suddenly the group circled him.

It had occurred to Moon that if Kalam had been compelled by the Fell, the rulers might have sent another infected groundling into the port to talk to him. He moved closer, trying to see what was happening. One of the groundlings, a tall gray male with a long head and limbs that made him look as if he might be related to the Aventerans, stooped over Kalam.

But as Moon stepped closer, Kalam tried to back away. Kalam, clearly uncomfortable, said in careful Altanic, “I’m just here to look around. I’m not interested in company.”

Moon hissed under his breath, annoyed. Kalam had picked the wrong place, all right; this structure must be mainly for getting intoxicated and meeting people to have sex with. Moon pushed forward and elbowed aside the groundling blocking Kalam’s retreat. He said, “He said he’s not interested.”

The group edged back a little. The one Moon had elbowed fell back against the wall clutching his middle. Moon had gotten used to elbowing warriors and had lost the habit for being more careful with groundlings. The maybe-Aventeran jerked back a little, startled. In badly slurred Altanic, he demanded, “Who are you?”

Moon showed his teeth in an expression that was not a smile. “I’m a friend of his father’s.”

The maybe-Aventeran’s companions and the other groundlings who had been gathering to see the fight immediately started to back away.