Starfinder: A Novel of the Skylords Read online

  “Is she talking to us?” asked Fiona.

  Moth watched as Esme broke her spiral and flew out over the trees. “She wants us to follow,” he said. Together he and Fiona dashed after the bird, clambering over rocks and pushing through the trees. Moth broke through a thicket onto a gravelly slope, losing his footing and falling on his backside. Suddenly he was sliding down, down . . .

  Face first, he tumbled into the water. He rolled himself upright, sputtering, up to his waist in an emerald-green lagoon.

  “You all right?” asked Fiona frantically. She came down the slope after him, sending gravel spilling into the lake. Lady Esme dropped down onto Moth’s shoulder.

  “Look at this place,” gasped Moth. In Calio, where all their water came from rain, there were no lakes. Moth had never seen one before, but he was pretty sure they weren’t supposed to be green. “Look at that color . . .”

  “Come out,” warned Fiona. “I can’t even see your feet.”

  Moth cupped up some water. In his hands it was perfectly clear. Yet the half of his body submerged in it was invisible. He put the water to his lips and tasted.

  “It’s fine,” he decided. “Better than fine!”

  Fiona knelt down at the edge of the lake and fished out his coat. “You forgetting something?”

  “The star machine!”

  Moth watched as Fiona took it from his pocket, unwrapping it. Her eyes shot up in amazement. “It’s not even wet.”

  “You see? Magic!” Moth spun through the water, heading out where it was deeper. “Maybe this isn’t water at all! Maybe it’s all melted emeralds.”

  “Or maybe you’re just swimming in slime.”

  “It’s not!” Moth shot back. Lady Esme flew from him to land beside Fiona. Moth laughed and fell back into the water, floating on his back. “Come on in, Fiona. Cool off with me!”

  Fiona answered, “At least have the sense to take your boots off. You probably can’t even swim.”

  “Nope, can’t swim a lick,” said Moth.

  Fiona pulled off her boots, tossing them onto the slope with their coats. Moth sloshed toward Fiona, pulled off his boots and threw them into the pile, then put out his hand.

  “Ooh,” exclaimed Fiona as she drifted into the lake. “It’s not cold at all.”

  “Not too cold, not too warm. Everything about this world is perfect.”

  They led each other deeper into the lake, around outcroppings and into the crannies where the water rose to their shoulders. Loons and other water fowl nestled in the overhanging branches. From the shore Lady Esme called to them. Moth held tight to Fiona’s hand.

  “That way,” he said, guiding her farther around the bend. Fiona kept hold of him.

  “Don’t go drowning on me,” she warned.

  The lagoon extended long past the rocks. They could see now how it twisted into a river that headed toward the hills. Moth ventured out a little further, until the water was around his shoulders.

  “We can follow the river all the way to Merceron,” he said. “All we have to do is make our food last.”

  “You like soggy meat pies?” Fiona asked. “Yours were in your coat. Remember?” She pulled on Moth, wanting to go back. “We shouldn’t have left our things,” she said. “It’s too deep here anyway.”

  Moth took one last look at the winding lagoon, until a flash of golden hair snagged his attention.

  “Come on,” urged Fiona, dragging him away.

  “Shh!” Moth ducked down until the water was up to his chin. “Fiona, look . . .”

  There, lying against a giant rock, was a woman, her bare back soaking up the sun, her entire lower body submerged in the emerald water. Her head rested on her arms, turned to one side. Her face held an expression of utter contentment, her eyes closed.

  “She’s . . . naked,” Fiona whispered.

  Moth tried to hide his grin. “Yeah . . .”

  She was like the storybook princess Moth had imagined Lady Esme to be, her hair so impossibly golden it rivaled the sun. Her peaceful, porcelain face showed no trace of fear or shame. Like everything they had found so far in this world, she was perfect.

  “Go on, put your eyeballs back in your head,” scolded Fiona. “Haven’t you ever seen a woman before?”

  Moth shook his head. “Uh-uh.”

  Fiona frowned, not getting his meaning. “Just don’t stare like that, okay? Maybe she can help us.”

  To Moth’s surprise Fiona trudged toward the rock, pulling him along. “Excuse me,” she called out. “Hello?”

  Moth felt like a little brother being dragged around. He snatched back his hand, taking his chances in the deeper water, trying to look older than his thirteen years.

  “I think she’s sleeping,” said Moth. “Maybe we should just leave her alone.”

  “She’s the first person we’ve seen here,” said Fiona. Louder this time, she shouted, “Ma’am? Excuse me, ma’am? Can you help us?”

  At last the woman’s eyes fluttered open. They were close enough now for Moth to see how green her eyes were, the same jewel color as the water. She rolled onto her side to watch them.

  “Oh . . .,” gasped Moth, stunned by her nakedness.

  “I’ll do the talking,” said Fiona. She smiled like a politician as they approached the woman. “We’re sorry to bother you,” she said, “but we’re sort of lost. My name’s Fiona . . .”

  “I’m Moth,” Moth interjected. He put up a hand in greeting. “Hi.”

  The woman returned a dazzling smile. Once more she turned, sinking a little in the water to recline against the smooth rock. “Where are you from, young ones? I don’t know you.” She studied Fiona in particular, seeming perplexed. “What a color your hair is! And your wrappings—why?”

  “You mean our clothes?” asked Fiona. “It’s what we wear. We wear clothes where we come from.”

  Clearly the woman was confused. She leaned closer, eyeing Moth. “These waters are Shelian,” she said. She pointed to where the waters wound toward the mountains. “Where is your clan? In the Tiger Teeth?”

  “Clan? No, ma’am, we don’t have a clan,” said Moth. “We’re looking for someone.”

  “A Shelian?” asked the woman.

  “Uh, we’re not sure,” mused Fiona. “We’re from—”

  “From somewhere else,” Moth said quickly. “Someplace far away from here.”

  The woman tried to be accommodating. “These are Shelian waters. Do you know that?”

  As the woman waited for their answer, she pulled herself onto the rock, up out of the water. Moth braced to see the rest of her, shocked by what he saw. Next to him, Fiona’s jaw fell open.

  The woman’s lovely human flesh disappeared beneath her torso, changing into the glistening and scaly body of a fish. The enormous tail undulated as it helped her onto the rock, its multicolored fins shining like a rainbow. Casually she tucked her tail beneath herself.

  “Younglings?” she queried.

  Moth couldn’t speak. The woman—the mermaid—blinked in puzzlement.

  “You are lost?” she asked them. She patted the rock beside her. “Come sit with me. The sun is good today.”

  Moth shuffled closer to Fiona, realizing that the woman thought they were just like her. “Uh, Fiona . . .”

  “You’re a mermaid!” Fiona blurted.

  Moth took Fiona’s arm. “That’s right,” he chirped. “A mermaid. Nothing unusual about that, right? Let’s just go now . . .”

  “Moth, look at her!” Fiona sputtered.

  Moth turned toward the woman and said, “We’re sorry we bothered you . . .”

  But the woman looked alarmed now. She squinted down into the water. Her eyes widened in something like horror as she realized there weren’t tails beneath the strangers, but legs.

  “Who are you?” she asked. “Where are you from?”

  “Look, we don’t know anything about your people,” said Moth, knowing he couldn’t lie. “We’re from across the Reach. We’re looking for
a wizard named Merceron.”

  The mermaid slipped back into the water. “You’re humans!” she gasped. “Humans can’t be here. It’s forbidden!”

  “But we had to come,” said Fiona. “We have to find Merceron.”

  “We’re not here to hurt anyone,” added Moth quickly. “Really, we just need some help. Do you know Merceron? Does he live in those hills?”

  The mermaid seemed genuinely frightened now. “I cannot speak to you,” she told them. “Go and forget this place. Go now, please.”

  Like a porpoise she dove into the water, speeding away into the emerald lagoon. Moth and Fiona watched her go, stupefied.

  “She was afraid of us,” said Fiona. “Why?”

  Suddenly, their perfect world didn’t seem so perfect anymore.

  “My heart’s thumping in my chest again,” said Moth.

  Fiona took hold of his hand. “Mine too.”

  A DIFFERENT SKY

  EVEN AFTER A LONG DAY of walking, Fiona doubted she could ever fall asleep. With their long coats for sleeping bags, she and Moth lay beneath a carpet of stars, gazing up in wonder. Fiona had seen stars at home, of course, but the gray skies of Capital City had never looked like this, and she knew that counting them all would take the rest of her life. In this world—whatever this new world was called—the stars actually twinkled. Some even streaked across the night, leaving a dusty, fading trail. Wide-eyed, too excited to sleep, Fiona imagined she and Moth were in a safe place, where none of the strange creatures of this world could find them.

  In truth, they were not very far from the place where they had seen the mermaid. After that odd encounter, they had somehow found the strength to hike an hour more, but with little progress. Feet aching, legs aching, they found another solitary nook along the bank of the sparkling river, spreading out their coats and settling down for the night. Lady Esme stayed close to them, descending from the sky as darkness fell. Moth used a single, precious match to start a fire, just big enough to warm a meat pie for the three of them to share.

  But of course it was not enough, and as he lay next to her, Fiona could hear the pleading rumbling of Moth’s stomach.

  “Sorry,” he said, putting a hand over his belly.

  Fiona tried not to think about food. Their supplies, which seemed so ample the day before, had dwindled quickly. “Pretend you had a big meal. Pretend you’re so full you’d get sick if you ate another bite.”

  “How am I supposed to make myself believe that?” said Moth. “We’ll find some food along the way tomorrow, don’t worry. We just haven’t been looking for it, that’s all. This place is bound to be loaded with good stuff to eat. Maybe we’ll catch some fish.”

  “Don’t mention fish, please,” said Fiona. A picture of the mermaid bloomed in her mind. Why had it frightened her so much?

  “I hope we see her again,” said Moth. His voice was almost dreamy.

  Fiona didn’t turn her head, afraid to see that look in his eyes, the kind of look that said he’d never seen anything so beautiful in his life as that mermaid. “We won’t,” she told him. “She’s afraid of us. She’s probably told her whole family about us by now. We’ll be lucky if they don’t crawl up on shore and strangle us while we’re sleeping.”

  “Mermaids don’t do that,” Moth scolded. “Really, Fiona, sometimes . . .”

  But he didn’t finish his sentence. He just grumbled and went back to looking at the stars. They were altogether different here in this world, and not just because they were brighter. They were mixed up and jumbled, like someone had shaken them in a box and strewn them across the sky. Fiona had given up trying to locate the few constellations she knew back home. Suddenly, everything perplexed her.

  “When I was little,” she whispered, “my mother used to take me outside at night and show me the stars. I used to want to touch them, so my mother would pick me up and lift me as high as she could. She’d tell me to stretch out my hand. ‘Stretch, Fiona!’ ”

  Moth asked with a chuckle, “Is that how you got so tall?”

  “I really thought I could catch a star. She used to tell me that someday I’d be big enough to reach up and grab them for myself.” Fiona’s smile faded. It should have been a happy memory, but it wasn’t. “Why do parents lie to their kids like that?” she wondered.

  “They didn’t lie, Fiona. Parents don’t lie.”

  “Yes, they do. Mine told me they’d come back. But they went up in that airship and died.” Finally, she turned to face Moth. “What did your mother tell you when she was sick? Did she tell you she was going to die?”

  Moth’s face puckered. “No. She told me she’d be all right.”

  “See?” Fiona went back to stargazing. Then, another thought came to her. “Why do you think he’s up there?” she asked.

  “Who?”

  “Merceron. Why does he have a constellation? Only dead people have constellations named after them. Fake people.”

  “Hmm, I’ve been thinking about that myself,” said Moth. He shifted his body as if uncomfortable. “We can ask him when we meet him.”

  “When do you think we’ll meet him?” asked Fiona.

  “Tomorrow, probably.” Moth nodded at his own prediction. “Yeah. Tomorrow definitely.”

  Fiona blinked up at the sky. “All right,” she said, trying to sound courageous. “Tomorrow, then.”

  THE FACE OF GOD

  FROM THE WINDOW of Governor Rendor’s office, Skyhigh enjoyed an impressive, peaceful view of Calio. Now that night had fallen he could see the lights of the city blinking over the garden wall. The white buildings of the newer section glowed softly, standing like distant statues against the greenery. A row of ash trees blocked the older portions of the city from sight, a tactic Skyhigh knew was deliberate. The mansion was far too beautiful to be marred by the sight of poor folks.

  Skyhigh moved away from the window, anxious for his meeting with Rendor. He’d been held in the mansion all day, kept from leaving or speaking to anyone beyond the servants. He’d even been given his own comfortable bedroom—a luxury for a Skyknight used to bunking with so many others. He’d been fed and given clean clothes, too, but to his great surprise he hadn’t been questioned about Fiona’s disappearance.

  Finally, after Skyhigh had been entertaining himself as best he could and was on the verge of maddening boredom, the manservant named Jonathan had come to escort him to Rendor’s office.

  “The Governor will be with you shortly,” Jonathan had assured him.

  That was nearly an hour ago.

  Near the full-length window sat Rendor’s enormous desk, turned out to face anyone coming into the room. Behind the desk sat a big chair of lime-colored leather. Knowing he shouldn’t, Skyhigh plopped down into the chair. With his hands gripping the big armrests, he surveyed the office like a king. All manner of books and bric-a-brac lined the wooden shelves. Tiny sundials, time pieces, and devices of dubious scientific value caught Skyhigh’s eye. On the desk sat an orrery, a small, moving model simulating the movement of the planets, each of them represented by silver balls. The toy fascinated Skyhigh. He flicked his finger at one of the balls, sending it spinning around the sun.

  “Comfortable?” boomed a sudden voice.

  Skyhigh looked up into the face of Governor Rendor, standing in the doorway.

  “Yes,” he replied without a trace of embarrassment.

  The air between them was charged with tension. Skyhigh rose from the chair to face his captor. He had seen the governor before, but only from a distance. Rendor was a notorious recluse, but he was also a genius, the father of the flying age. Skyhigh couldn’t help but admire him. Rendor was dressed impeccably in a black frock coat and trousers, the silver chain of a pocket watch drooped across his belly. A salt-and-pepper beard hid his unexpressive lips. When he spoke his voice was toneless.

  “My granddaughter is gone,” he said.

  Skyhigh stepped around the vast desk. “If you’re so worried about her, maybe you should have talked to
me sooner.”

  Rendor stalked into the chamber, toward a sideboard where his liquors were kept. “Please don’t be offended, Captain, but my time has been devoted to men of greater stature than your own.” He popped the top from a crystal decanter of brandy, pouring himself a glass. “The other governors have gone now, thank heavens. Now I can touch on this matter of my granddaughter. Would you like a drink, Captain?”

  “No,” said Skyhigh. “Just some answers.”

  “We all want answers, Captain,” said Rendor with a grin. “Life is full of mysteries.” Glass in hand, he walked over to a pair of chairs by the unlit hearth. Between the chairs was a small table of varnished wood, on top of which sat a cigar box. “For instance, I’m wondering why my granddaughter would run off with a cleaning boy.”

  “Governor, I had nothing to do with Fiona’s leaving,” said Skyhigh.

  Rendor sat down and sniffed at his brandy “I already know where Fiona’s gone, Captain. She and that boy Moth . . .” He looked up from his drink. “A friend of yours, isn’t he?”

  “Yes,” declared Skyhigh. “He is.”

  “That boy is a thief.” Rendor gestured to the vacant chair. “Sit.”

  Skyhigh bristled at the order. “If you know where they are, why don’t you go after them?

  “Because they’ve gone through the Reach.”

  “Have they?”

  “You know they have,” said Rendor. “But that’s not why I brought you here. Now . . .” Once again he motioned to the chair. “Will you please sit down?”

  This time Skyhigh did as requested. He couldn’t help but feel intrigued. For two days he had puzzled over Leroux’s mystery gift. Now at last he might get some answers.

  “Before you start questioning me,” he said, “you should know that I won’t betray the children. All I care about is helping them.”

  Rendor suddenly laughed. “That girl! She paints me as quite a monster, doesn’t she? Go on, then—protect her from me, Captain. Keep your secrets. Whatever my granddaughter and the boy have told you is meaningless anyway. Neither of them have any idea what’s going on.”