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The Siren Depths

Volume Three of the Books of the Raksura

Martha Wells

To Troyce Wilson, for believing in me.

Chapter One

“It’s a long way,” Moon said. He walked along the wide expanse of the branch, his heel claws catching in the rough wood. The air was fresh and cool and green-tinged early morning sunlight filtered down through the thick layers of the mountain-tree’s leafy canopy. “I think you’re taking too many Arbora.” He was trying to come up with better objections to the trip, but so far that was all he had.

“I know I’m taking too many Arbora.” Stone was in his groundling form, sitting on the branch, surveying the two flying boats below. “Try telling them that.”

The boats had been tethered to one of the colony tree’s larger garden platforms so they could be loaded more easily. Both were from the Golden Isles, with long graceful hulls made of lacquered wood and sails fan-folded up into the single central masts. Together the two ships had been large enough for the entire Indigo Cloud court to crowd aboard, but on the way back they would carry only four overexcited Arbora, six warriors resigned to their fate, and one impatient groundling.

A small crowd had gathered on the boats and the grassy platforms below the hulls, mostly Arbora carrying provisions aboard or finishing off the last few repairs, or who were saying goodbye to the travelers. Several warriors flew circles around the masts, staying out of the way.

“I can see why you need Blossom,” Moon admitted. Niran, the groundling whose family owned the vessels, had taught Blossom to pilot the smaller ship, the Indala, on the long journey to the Reaches. She would be piloting it again on the longer journey back to the Yellow Sea. Once the two ships reached the Golden Isles and Niran’s family, Stone and the other Raksura would fly back under their own power, the warriors carrying the flightless Arbora. “Why do you need the others?”

“Company for Blossom. And Niran.” Stone unfolded long legs and pushed to his feet. His groundling form was lean and tall, like Moon’s groundling form, like the groundling forms of most Aeriat Raksura. He had one bad eye, partially blinded by a white haze across the pupil, and was so old his skin and hair had faded to gray. He also wore gray, pants and a loose shirt. “And for me. I’m not spending this trip trapped on those flying baskets with nobody but warriors to talk to.”

Stone was cranky, moody, and had lied to get Moon to follow him across the Three Worlds, and Moon wanted him to leave slightly less than he wanted to lose a wing. They were the only two adult consorts in the court, and Moon needed the company and the reinforcement. And Stone was the closest he had ever had to a father, or a male relative of any kind. And he thought he had succeeded in concealing all that, but one of Stone’s more annoying qualities was his ability to guess what Moon was thinking. Stone glanced at him, amusement in his one good eye, and said, “I won’t be gone that long.”

Before Moon could retort that he didn’t give a piss how long Stone was gone, Stone shifted, dropped off the branch, and spread his wings to glide down toward the flying boats.

Stone’s winged form was huge; tip to tip his wings were more than three times the size of Moon’s twenty pace span. Raksuran queens and consorts grew larger and stronger as they grew older, and Stone was very old. Old and experienced enough to get the boats and Niran to their islands and the Arbora and warriors safely home, Moon reminded himself. He knew all his objections were irrational. And maybe you’re just jealous. Squelching that thought, he dropped off the branch, snapped his wings out, and swept down toward the platform.

On the way down, Moon banked out to catch the spray from the waterfall where it fell from a channel in the mountain-tree’s entrance knothole. The water plunged down to collect in various pools on the wide platforms extending out from the trunk, formed where the tree’s thick branches grew together and intertwined in broad swathes.

Moon circled above the Indala and Valendera where they were tethered near an irrigation pond, rope ladders dangling down from their decks so the Arbora wouldn’t scale the wooden hulls. Sanding out claw marks had been one of the major repairs they had had to make, along with rebraiding ropes and patching tears in the sails. From what he could see, the water casks and food supplies had already been loaded, and the Arbora on the decks mostly just milled around, talking.

Moon spotted Chime near the stern of the Indala and landed lightly in the high grass next to him. Chime ducked as Moon shook the water off his scales, and said grumpily, “Consorts are allowed to sleep late, you know.”

Moon lowered his spines and folded his wings into a compact mass on his back. “I wanted to see them off. What are you doing up this early?” Chime didn’t usually crawl out of his bower-bed until mid-morning at the earliest. The times Moon had slept with him, he had had to climb over Chime’s unresponsive body to get out.

“I wanted to see them off too, but I’m also on patrol today.” Chime absently kicked a tuft of grass, annoyed.

Moon was unsympathetic. Patrol meant a day of circling the immediate area under the mountain-tree’s canopy, watching for predators and other incursions, not exactly a difficult job. And while it might be dull, at least it was a necessary task. Trying to change the subject, he said, “I’m glad you decided not to go with the ships.”

Chime shrugged his spines a little uncomfortably. “After Flower died, I thought I’d better stay here. Maybe I can give Heart advice, at least.” He had started out life as an Arbora, a mentor; the pressure of disease and lack of warrior births at the old colony had forced the change to warrior on him. Even after all this time, he still wasn’t fully reconciled to it.

Moon said, “Heart can probably use the help.” She was the most powerful mentor in the court now, the leader of the caste, since Flower had died two months ago. But she was young, and some members of the court weren’t happy with her as chief mentor. Like they weren’t happy with a mostly feral solitary with no bloodline as their first consort.

“Maybe I’m a little afraid, too,” Chime said, as he looked up at the Indala. The ship moved gently, swayed by the breeze, the light wood creaking. “Our last trip was…a little much. That’s as close as I want to come to being eaten by something.”

That was putting it mildly. “I don’t think this trip will be that bad.”

“I hope not. The mentors have been doing auguries, and they haven’t seen anything bad, but…” Chime sighed in resignation. “You know that’s not always reliable.”

Yes, Moon knew that wasn’t always reliable.

A last flurry of Arbora leapt or scrambled down off the boats. Blossom and Bead appeared at the railing, saw Moon and Chime, and waved, both of them bouncing with excitement. Moon waved back, though he wished they weren’t going either. He liked them, and they both tended to defend him to the other Arbora. He tried not to feel like he was losing some of his best allies and told himself they would only be gone a few months at most.

“Here comes Jade,” Chime said.

Moon looked up as Jade banked down from above, the soft vivid blue of her scales standing out against the gray wall of the mountain-tree’s trunk. She headed directly for the Indala’s deck.

“I guess Pearl’s not coming.” Chime watched the knothole, but no one else appeared.

Pearl didn’t like groundlings, but it was Moon’s opinion that she didn’t much like Raksura, either. The Arbora had held a formal goodbye for Niran last night, and Pearl probably considered it all that was necessary.