Martha Wells
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51. Malachite Returns to Opal Night Part 2
🕑 Added 2018-06-27 13:25:47 +0000 UTCFeather wanted to pace, but the ground under the trees was too rocky. She couldn't see the colony from here, just the occasional party of warriors flying patrol. The view of the entrance was blocked by a stone ridge of rock, mostly covered by grass, vines, and small trees. Huge stone pillars stretched up from it at intervals, and it enclosed a broken mountain-tree. Feather could only see the dead half, standing up straight over the ridge and dominating the landscape, its dead branches filling the sky. The warriors had said the other half of the trunk leaned into the ridge, with a living but twisted canopy.
"Do you think it's nice inside?" Chalk said, leaning against a rock and staring in the same direction.
Feather didn't reply. She didn't think they were ever going to find out. It had been too long.
Malachite had flown to the colony with five of her warriors and Tear, their oldest mentor, but that had been half the day ago.
"What are they doing?" Sunlight moaned, echoing Feather's thought.
Tassel, the warrior keeping guard in the branches above them, hissed a warning. Then she said, "Never mind, it's Bright and Rainfall coming back."
Feather walked out to the edge of the copse, reluctant to step out from cover in this strange place, even with all the warriors around. Rainfall cupped his wings and swept down, dropped Bright in the high grass, and flapped back up to curve back toward the colony.
"Not good," Chalk whispered from behind Feather.
Feather didn't want to believe it, but her stomach sank. Bright jogged slowly toward them, spines drooping. As she reached them, she said bluntly, "They won't take in the babies. Malachite's standing outside their entrance hall."
The half-Fell babies, Bright meant. Feather covered her face, and swore. We've come so far.
Chalk snarled, and was echoed by the others gathered in the copse. "What do they expect us to do, just dump them in the forest?" The chorus of growls was ear-splitting.
Feather spun, flared her spines and said, "Shut up."
They all shut up, spines dropping all over the copse. Even the nearby warriors twitched. Feather hadn't realized how angry she was, but it was burning her chest like a mentor's stone. She asked Bright, "Did the queen have any orders?"
"Just wait," Bright said, subdued.
"Then we wait." Feather looked around at the others, and any spines that had begun to lift snapped back down. She added, "Go tell the others. If they have objections, they can come to me." She felt her claws flex involuntarily.
Chalk shifted to groundling form and backed away. Feather waited until the others had fallen back, then sighed. Bright shifted to her groundling form, and sighed. Feather looped an arm around her shoulders. "Will it be okay?" Bright said, sounding bleak.
Feather didn't want to answer that. She just said, "Let's go find you some food."
***
The day wore on, slow and miserable, and Malachite didn't return, though Rainfall and the other warriors appeared occasionally to report to the others. "She's just standing there, staring at the doors to the colony," Rainfall reported in a hushed whisper.
"Why?" Sunlight asked.
"I think she's giving them time to change their minds." Rainfall shrugged helplessly.
Feather groaned. She wanted to throw herself down on the ground and scream, but she couldn't afford to with everyone watching. "We can't fight this court. We'll kill each other."
"I know that." Rainfall shrugged helplessly again.
As night fell, the Arbora organized themselves back into their groups for protection and comfort, to make sure the warriors got fed and the babies and fledglings were comfortably bedded down for the night. Just like they had every night of this long journey. Feather had been so sure it was about to end, and now she had no idea what they were going to do next.
Feather left Chalk in charge of her group and made a firepit in the copse, hoping Malachite would return. A few of the other Arbora joined her, and the warriors stayed on guard up in the branches. Fortunately, everyone else was as dispirited as she was, and no one tortured themselves or anyone else with the question What do we do now?
Then a warrior stirred overhead and whispered. "Someone's coming. An Arbora. One of them."
Feather exchanged a startled look with the others and pushed to her feet.
After a time a lone Arbora walked out of the darkness. She was in her groundling form, the warm brown of her skin and hair just starting to fade to gray. The patterns in the watered blue cloth she wore struck old notes in Feather's memory, designs she had seen on the covers of the old books in the court's collection. A few books had been unearthed from the ruin of the colony, and were carried carefully in Tear's pack.
The Arbora glanced up and met Feather's gaze, and it took a serious effort for Feather not to shift to her own groundling form, out of politeness and respect. This was a mentor, a powerful one. She said, "I'm Spiral."
"I'm Feather." The anger rose again and she added, "I supposed you had to walk all the way out here to greet us, since we aren't welcome in your colony."
Spiral's expression stayed calm. She said, "Our reigning queen Onyx is young and impulsive."
A growl in her voice, Sunlight said, "It's too bad you don't have an older queen to teach her sense."
"It is." Spiral met Feather's gaze, direct and deliberate. "And maybe we should talk about that."
Feather's throat went tight. All the other Arbora froze, almost stopped breathing. Feather shifted to her groundling form and sat down on the dusty ground. She gestured for Spiral to sit, and said, "Maybe we should."
