“They could draw a picture, if they’re so interested,” the normally good-natured and oblivious Root muttered.
Delin had come out while they were eating and sat on the deck so he could continue a conversation with Chime, and had appeared completely undisturbed. That helped a little, but the warriors and Arbora were still self-conscious. Moon was used to being self-conscious, around both groundlings and Raksura, but he knew how unpleasant it was to feel as if your normal habits were somehow an affront.
“Now I know what you mean when you say you hate to be stared at,” Balm told Moon quietly, rippling her spines to release tension. “Do you feel like this all the time?”
“Yes,” Moon told her. Briar, crouched on Balm’s other side, looked horrified.
Root and Song tossed the bones and guts and other leftovers over the railing, and Bramble glanced uneasily up at the windows. “Maybe I should go down with the warriors next time. I could clean the kills and dress them on the ground before we bring them up.”
Moon wasn’t sure that would help. Jade said, “It’s dangerous, and unnecessary. We don’t know this area at all.”
Stone ruffled Bramble’s frills. He had been the only one who hadn’t shifted to eat, but fortunately he didn’t really seem to need to. “The groundlings will get used to it.” He paused to give Delin a hand up, and wandered down to the hatchway with him and Chime. Chime was saying, “That was just what Ocean Winter’s library had about it.” He had been so involved in the conversation with Delin that he hadn’t much noticed all the scrutiny.
“Yes, but it does align well with your findings at Opal Night,” Delin replied as they moved inside.
The others were standing on the deck, looking at Jade, somewhat dispirited. Moon knew part of it was boredom. This terrain just hadn’t been that interesting to look at, and the Kishan’s nervousness of them was beginning to wear. Jade’s expression was sympathetic. “Stone’s right, they’ll get used to it. In the meantime—”
A thump from below shook the flying boat. Jade spun, scanning the sky, and Moon tasted the air. The offal that was still staining the deck was all he could detect. No, maybe that wasn’t offal.
Further down the deck, a heavyset Janderi dropped the bucket he carried and stared around, startled. Briar and Song started toward the railing and Jade snapped, “Stay where you are.”
The Janderi took a step toward the railing to look down. Then something loomed up beside the flying boat.
It was big, with a green mottled hide, and it fastened tendrils around the railing. One tendril snatched up the Janderi and lifted him into the air. The hide split into a mouth a good ten paces wide, lined with writhing feelers.
Moon didn’t have a chance to do more than hiss when Jade launched herself off the deck. She hit the base of the tendril and closed her foot claws around it. Green fluid spurted and the creature flung the Janderi away. Balm bounced straight up in the air, caught him, and landed on the deck again.
More tendrils shot up from all around to grab at the railing. Moon heard a terrified yell from the bow. He looked and saw more tendrils wrapped around the steering cabin. He bounded down the deck, leapt and landed on the wall next to one of the windows.
Inside he saw the tendril had broken through the window on the opposite side and wrapped around a tall Janderan. It tried to drag him out the narrow opening, a process that would surely tear him apart. Rorra held on to him while frantically stabbing at the tendril with a pointed navigation instrument. Moon shoved the window open, slithered inside, and slammed past Rorra. He jammed himself in between the desperate Janderan and the broken window, and bit into the tendril. It tasted terrible, but he jerked and twisted, ripping into it.
Rorra wrapped her arms around the Janderan and yanked backward. Moon braced his legs against the frame of the broken window and pushed.
The tendril gave way and they all fell away from the window to land on the cabin floor. Rorra, still holding on to the gasping Janderan, scrambled back, dragging him with her. More tendrils shoved into the room, waving angrily, blocking the way to the door. Moon pushed Rorra and the Janderan back into a corner and braced himself in front of them.
Then the tendrils all flinched in unison, a sudden sharp movement. They jerked backward out of the window and disappeared from view. Moon waited tensely, but they didn’t reappear. “What happened?” Rorra whispered hoarsely.
Moon figured that Stone had happened. He eased to his feet cautiously and looked out the window. Below on the deck, a few confused Kishan ran around with their fire weapons, but no one was shooting at anything. The warriors and Jade perched up on the railing looking down. Moon spotted Stone, in his groundling form, casually sling himself back over the railing. Jade turned, saw Moon, and waved an all-clear.
“It’s gone now.” Moon waved back and crouched down to help the Janderan sit up.
“It?” Rorra got her boots under her and rolled into a sitting position. “There was only one?”
“I think so. I think most of it was on the bottom of the boat,” Moon told her. He was worried about the Janderan. There were light gray circles under his eyes and around his mouth, standing out against the dark brown of his skin. It wasn’t normal and it couldn’t mean anything good. Moon untangled the tendril fragment still around the man’s waist and helped Rorra hold him upright. He was gasping for air and it was usually easier to breathe while sitting up. Rorra asked him anxiously, “Magrim, are you hurt badly? Your ribs, your chest?”
Magrim moved his head uncertainly. “I’m—Ribs feel broken . . .” He grabbed Moon’s arm and said in Altanic, “Thank you, thank you.”
Rorra said, “Yes, thank you.” She added, a little wryly, “Now I know why your queen brought you.”
Her communication scent was strong, but knowing what it was and that it was there made it much easier to ignore. And some groundlings would have found a way to interpret the whole thing as Moon helping the creature try to eat them, so he appreciated Rorra and Magrim’s clear-headed view of the situation. He said, “You’re welcome.”
Callumkal burst through the door, exclaiming in alarm, and Moon moved away so he could get to Magrim.
Kalam stood in the doorway, asking breathlessly, “Is everyone all right in here?”
“Magrim might need a healer,” Moon told him.
“I’ll get help,” Kalam said, and ducked back out the doorway.
Moon followed him down the interior passage and out to the deck. Toward the stern, the warriors gathered around Jade, and the Kishan were at the rail now, aiming their weapons toward the ground. The man that Jade and Balm had rescued was on his feet, being helped to a hatchway by a Janderi woman. Chime and Delin had come out of the hatchway further down, and looked bewildered by the confusion. The wind held a fading trace of the creature’s predator musk, the rotted-flesh scent that had been masked by the offal of their kills. Moon asked, “Was anyone else hurt?”
“Not badly,” Kalam said, waving to a woman midway down the deck. “We’re doing a count now, to make sure everyone’s still . . . here.”
The Janderan woman strode toward them, a heavy bag over her shoulder that Moon assumed carried her healing simples and supplies. Kalam told her hurriedly, “Serlam, it’s Magrim, in the steering cabin. He may be injured.”
“It squeezed him around here,” Moon added, motioning to his rib cage.
As Serlam headed inside, Vendoin reached them. She said, “We saw Stone—How did he do that? Can you all do that?”
It sounded like the emergency had caused Stone to give up his effort to keep the size of his winged form a secret. “You mean . . .” Moon prompted, just in case he was wrong.