They followed the traders through an arched entrance hall, the white walls carved to look like long drapes of fabric. Guards wearing coats of reptile hide and armed with short metal-tipped spears stood at frequent intervals. They wore weapons at their belts that looked like small crossbows, just from the brief glimpses Moon was able to get. Good, he thought sourly. First we have a groundling shaman, and now we have projectile weapons.
He had been expecting the inside of this place to be something like their abandoned tower, if on a larger and less decayed scale. But the size of it caught him by surprise.
The entryway opened out into a large circular hall, with a wide stairway curving up to the level above. The walls were set with alabaster panels framed by heavy carved drapery. Vapor-lights hung from sconces made to look like water serpents.
The knot of groundlings in front spread out a little, staring upward in astonishment. Moon looked up and froze, a quiver traveling down his spine.
Suspended high overhead was a giant blue-scaled waterling, its body a good sixty paces long. It was half-fish, half-groundling, with groundling-like arms and a scaled torso ending in a long tail, its fins as large as the sails of a small fishing boat. Its huge clawed hands dangled and its head pointed right down toward them, glassy eyes staring angrily, open jaw big enough to walk upright through, teeth stained yellow and black. It was dead—it had to be dead—stuffed and preserved and slowly decaying.
Stone bumped his arm, impatience mingled with reassurance, and Moon made himself move forward into the hall. That, or something very like it, was what had nearly grabbed Moon when he was flying low over the sea. The traders just ahead of them murmured in uneasy awe and discomfort. Moon was glad he wasn’t the only one.
The local groundlings, apparently used to the sight, had already started up the stairs. Stone followed and Moon trailed after him. He had a bad feeling the giant waterling was only the beginning. At least he knew now what the woman in the wine bar had meant when she said the display in the tower was disturbing.
Preserved carvings hung along the inside stairwell, large sections chipped out of the walls of some other building. The faded paint showed groundlings with elaborate jeweled headdresses riding in procession on giant grasseaters, taller than the trees along the side of the avenue. In any other circumstances, Moon would have stopped for a closer look, but this place was making his skin twitch. Most of the groundlings passed the carvings with only brief glances as well, their attention on the gallery above the stairs.
The next level held far more exhibits. Carvings of stone and wood, all obviously cut or chipped out of their original locations, some painted or set with jewels. Some statues were rough and crude, others were beautifully carved, of strange types of groundlings, of other creatures Moon had never seen before. There were metalwork panels, shields, weapons, a whole row of full sets of armor, inlaid with gold, silver, and gems, the helmets formed into snarling animal masks. But next to all the wonderful things there were cubbies in the walls, and in each one was a dead creature, stuffed and posed in a horribly lifelike position. Standing on a low plinth in the center of the hall was the skeleton of something like a branch spider, standing more than fifteen paces high. The bones had been rearticulated somehow, maybe with wire, and the effect was eerily lifelike.
Moon and Stone moved out into the room, as the groundlings wandered and pointed and exclaimed. It looked like this was as far up into the tower as they were allowed to go. A shorter open stairway led to a set of doors, but they were tightly shut and watched by two guards.
Stone stopped suddenly. He was staring at a stand with a large jar set atop it.
Moon’s breath caught. We’re in the right place. The jar was carved of rich dark wood, and it had obviously been made by Arbora. The sinuous shapes of winged Raksura wrapped it, their claws hooked over the rim. The wide opening was sealed with a single piece of polished onyx. Stone turned away from it, and said, low-voiced, “It’s a queen’s funerary urn.”
Moon looked down, biting his lip, trying to conceal his start of shock. “From Indigo Cloud?” he muttered, speaking Raksuran.
Stone shook his head. “Ours were put into hollows in the wood of the tree, and the mentors made it grow around them. No one could get to them.” He looked at it again, eyes narrow. “This came from another colony.”
Moon swallowed, relieved. At least it wasn’t one of Jade or Stone’s ancestors. “Ardan’s been to the forests. The seed has to be here somewhere.”
Stone strolled away toward one side of the room. Moon took the other.
Delin, Niran’s scholarly grandfather, had a collection from his travels too, but it had been limited to pretty samples of pottery and other trinkets, and his books of notes and drawings. Ardan had sea creatures with maws of teeth and staring eyes, a flightless giant bird like the vargits that stalked the jungles far to the east, and something that was just a bundle of tentacles with mouths on the ends. There was a Tath, standing upright and pinned to a wooden post, the boney mask that protected its face making it look sightless. Its jaw hung open and its long clawed hands dangled uselessly, and Moon still had the urge to rip it apart. He was half-afraid to look into an alcove and discover that Ardan had collected a Fell. Though he supposed the Fell would have long since found a way to reach the island if Ardan had been fool enough to stuff a ruler or a major kethel.
Then he walked past an alcove with an occupant that stopped him in his tracks.
A waterling lay stretched out on a plinth, but it was nothing like Nobent or the monstrous creature downstairs. This was a sea realm dweller. Her skin was pale green, with a pattern of opalescent scales. The heavy ribbons of her hair were dark green, like sea wrack, and there were sharp fins along her calves and thighs. Her fingers and toes were webbed, and tipped with deceptively delicate claws.
Moon stepped closer, unwillingly fascinated. She still wore her jewelry: a belt of pearls, white metal armbands shaped like water snakes. He couldn’t see the death wound; possibly it was in her back. Whatever preserved her maintained the appearance of life, betrayed only by the faint scent of corruption and the sunken, bruised skin around her closed eyes. Moon had never seen a sea dweller this close before. He would have much preferred to see this one alive and swimming.
He turned away to see Stone regarding it with a grimace of disgust. “I’m surprised he doesn’t have any stuffed groundlings,” Moon said. There was no way Ardan could even pretend to classify a sealing with the Tath, the branch spider, and the other predators.
Stone gave the dead woman one last dark glance. “He doesn’t have them down here, where the others can see.”
He had a point. “Have you found anything?”
“It’s not here.” Stone’s jaw set, as if it took all he had to suppress a growl.
“It’s not on display,” Moon corrected. The next step seemed obvious. Tricky and potentially dangerous, but obvious. “I’ll say I want to see Ardan, tell him I know where he can find more Raksuran treasures.”
Stone shook his head. “Moon—”
Moon explained impatiently, “If he believes me, maybe I can look around inside the—”
“Moon, if he finds out what you are, he’ll collect you.”