Edge of Worlds (The Books of the Raksura) (56 page)

Moon’s heart thumped, and he stepped closer to listen. The others fell silent.

“Yes, that’s it,” Kalam said. He gestured in frustration. “But Magrim was the only one who would have been able to use our moss varietal to find theirs.”

Rorra explained, “Magrim was a horticultural, which is someone who can manipulate the stored sunlight in the moss for different tasks, like making it release light, produce the lift for a levitation harness or an air-going sailer, or to draw water into a motivator. The rest of us can tend those things and keep them working the way they should, but he knew how to make them.”

Everyone was listening now. Chime took a step toward them, his brows drawing together.

Hope making her voice tight, Jade said, “Manipulate the moss for light. Like a mentor could.”

Moon realized he was holding his breath. If there was still a chance . . .

Lithe turned to them. “Yes, that’s what I was thinking.” She asked Kalam and Rorra, “Can you explain to me exactly what you would do to find the flying boat if Magrim was here?”

Kalam glanced at Rorra. “I’ve seen it done but . . .”

Rorra thought it over, frowning absently. “There are several varietals of moss for the motivator. Magrim would have been able to choose the varietal that we share with the Hians’ ship. Then it would be put into a growth liquid, and the moss would start to grow in the direction of the other ship.”

“Maybe,” Chime said, his voice thick. “Maybe—”

“Maybe,” Lithe agreed. She asked Rorra, “Can you do the second part without him? The growth liquid?”

“Yes, that’s part of the necessary tending—” Rorra stopped, suddenly hopeful. “You think you can find the varietal?”

“I was going to scry to try to pick up their direction. But I thought we might try this first.”

Moon followed Lithe and Rorra and the others to the stern and the steps down to the motivator chamber. Jade had let Chime and Stone come along, but none of the others, telling them to stay and rest. She had said quietly to Moon, “If nothing comes of it, it’ll just be . . .” She didn’t finish the thought.

Just be another blow on top of all the others
, Moon thought. Shade had stayed behind with the recovering warriors, still keeping watch the way he had promised.

The chamber took up the whole stern of the sunsailer, its air filled with heavy green scents and a salty acrid odor, and the sound of the steady thrum and rush of water from the motivator just on the other side of the hull. All across the back wall were large webbed containers for the moss itself, and gray-veined vines that looked unpleasantly like tentacles wound all through it. They led out through an opening in the back wall. Rasal and another Janderi woman had some of the small containers open. Rasal seemed well enough, though the other woman swayed on her feet.

Looking around at it all, Niran said, “I’m not sure I understand the mechanism. The motivator is a creature, which is eating the moss?”

Chime said, “No, it’s a plant that’s eating the moss.”

“Eating the heat the moss produces,” Rorra corrected. “Rasal, we need samples from all the core moss varietals. I’m going to get the growth liquid out.”

“There’s three tens of varietals,” Rasal protested. “We’ll never be able to tell which is the right one.”

“We might,” Rorra countered, going to a set of pottery jars against the far wall. They were all tied up to wooden racks, their lids carefully strapped down. “Lithe here is a Raksura arcanist and may be able to tell.”

Rasal and her helper exchanged startled looks, then started to pull various tools out of a storage box. Lithe sat down on the floor nearby. After a moment, Chime went to join her. He said, softly, “I know I can’t help. If you want me to go—”

“No, I want you to stay,” Lithe told him. “You know more about groundling magic than I do.”

After watching them carefully snip pieces of moss out of various containers while Rorra laid out even more containers and more tools, Moon found a seat on the steps. It was becoming rapidly obvious that this process wasn’t going to be instantaneous. Stone settled beside him, while Jade and Niran started to pace.

Rorra carefully put the first sample into a pottery cup of unpleasantly acrid fluid and presented it to Lithe. Lithe cupped it in her hands, and they waited. The fifth time Niran almost tripped on Jade’s tail, Moon decided he couldn’t take it anymore. This was going to take forever, might lead to nothing, and the intense scents were beginning to make his stomach protest. He told Jade, “I’ll be up on deck.”

As he went up the stairs, he realized Stone was following him. He went out the first hatchway, onto the stern deck. There were two of Malachite’s warriors on top of the cabin overlooking it, and he could sense the presence of more nearby. The wind was still cool, sweeping away the Fell stench that still lingered over the sunsailer. Moon went to the railing and sat down where he could see the wake. Now it was outlined against the dark water by the little blue glowing bugs or plants that lived in the sea. It was a sign the water was now shallow enough that they were safe from giant oceanlings, though it could give their location away to anything in the air. But between Malachite and her warriors, the wind-ship, and the Kishan who were recovered enough to work the fire weapons, Moon wasn’t too worried about that.

Stone sat next to him, hissing under his breath at either stiff muscles or the leftover effects of the poison. Moon said, “I’m sorry I . . .” He wasn’t sure how to finish that sentence. “I’m just sorry.”

“Me too,” Stone said. Then he admitted, “I don’t know what we could have done differently.”

“Me neither.” They had been suspicious, just not of the right people. And now Song was lying cold because of it. “Jade doesn’t know why she died. She thinks it was just the poison. But you saw her.”

Stone looked out at the water. “Whatever happens, none of the Hians on that flying boat are going to live through this.”

“Whatever happens,” Moon agreed.

Moon wasn’t sure how long they had been sitting there, when Chime bolted out through the hatchway. He crouched beside them, saying breathlessly, “Lithe found it. She found it. It was the eighth sample, it triggered a vision of the Hians’ flying boat. They’re going to grow it now so it’ll show the direction in the liquid. It’ll grow toward the moss aboard the flying boat.”

Stone let out a breath of relief. Moon swallowed down the urge to growl. He hoped Vendoin was afraid. He hoped she knew they were coming. He said, “Let’s go back inside.”

A
BOUT
THE
A
UTHOR

Martha Wells is the author of over a dozen science fiction and fantasy novels, including the
Books of the Raksura
series,
Star Wars: Razor’s Edge
, and the Nebula-nominated
The Death of the Necromancer
, as well as short stories, nonfiction, and YA fantasy. Her books have been published in seven languages. Wells lives in College Station, Texas, with her husband.

Visit her website at
www.marthawells.com
.