“A logical assumption,” Lethen admitted. “It’s returning to its original position.” He added, “I’m a very old man. Unlike Ardan, I have all the wealth and temporal power I’m likely to ever need, and I have no wish to live on something that moves, either at someone’s direction or its own random whim.”
Moon said, “You want the bridle.”
Lethen inclined his head. “The question is, what do you want?”
Moon exchanged a look with Jade. She said, “We want the flying boat.”
Lethen frowned. “The what?”
“The metal ship in the harbor, the one that Ardan stole from the foreign explorers.” Jade hesitated. “It’s still there, isn’t it?”
“I believe so. The harbormaster was charged with lifting it out of the water with the fishing fleet. I assume he still did his job.” Lethen regarded her with open skepticism. “That’s all you want?”
“Yes,” Moon told him. “We’ll give you the bridle, if you let us leave, with the explorers, on that boat.”
Jade said, “That’s not all. In Ardan’s collection, there’s a wooden container, an urn—”
Lethen waved that away. “My dear, take anything from this tower that you want. You can strip the place down to the foundations if you like. I’ve spoken with Ardan’s wife. She makes no claim on his property.” His sharp gaze switched back to Moon. “She told me that you allowed her to leave with her children and personal servants. It was the reason I thought it might be possible to negotiate with you.”
“We don’t kill unless we’re provoked,” Jade said. It wasn’t quite a threat.
Lethen’s expression was sardonic. “I’ll keep that in mind. I don’t supposed you’d like to give me the bridle now.”
Hardly, Moon thought. “At the harbor, by the boat.”
“I’ll be waiting.” He gave them an ironic nod and turned away. They watched him hobble briskly across the square.
As they closed the door behind him, Jade said, “Do you think we can trust him?”
“No. But I think he wants the bridle, and he doesn’t care about us.”
Negal stepped into the passage. “I agree. And I think we should leave, now, before he changes his mind.”
Nobody wanted to argue with that.
Chapter Eighteen
Moon stepped into the room where Flower had died. The vaporlights were dimming, issuing only a little glowing mist, and the room was thick with shadows. Her body still lay on the bed, wrapped in silky sheets. It made an absurdly small bundle. He made himself look away, to the corner where Balm and Chime sat.
Chime huddled half in Balm’s lap, and she stroked his hair. Moon went to kneel beside them and put a hand on Chime’s back. “We have to leave. We’re going to the flying ship in the harbor.”
Balm lifted her brows. “Now? Isn’t it still daylight?”
“We have a deal with the magister who’s taking Ardan’s place.” At her expression, he added, “I know, but we’re hoping this one works out better.”
Chime took a sharp breath and sat up. He looked sick, exhausted. “What about her body? Do we have to leave her here? We should hide her, so they don’t—”
“No, we’re going to take her.” Jade had decided to take the queen’s funerary urn from Ardan’s collection for the purpose. It was big enough to hold a small Arbora body, once the current occupant was removed. Moon was going to let Stone handle that part.
“Oh.” Chime nodded, swallowed, and made to get up.
The groundlings hadn’t had many personal possessions with them, just clothing and a few things Ardan had allowed them to bring from their ship. They went up to quickly gather what they needed, and the Raksura spent the time raiding the tower’s kitchens and food stores, taking everything that could be easily transported and stuffed into bags. “There’s no meat,” Drift complained at one point as he turned out the contents of a cabinet.
“You’ll eat bread and dried fish and like it,” Balm told him, in the tone of someone on her last nerve.
Once that was done, both groups assembled in the exhibit hall, in the passage to the outer door. Moon had wondered if Negal’s people would take the opportunity to loot Ardan’s belongings, as compensation for their imprisonment. It didn’t look like they had; the packs they carried were all stuffed with bags from the tower’s dry food stores. Maybe they didn’t want any reminders, or maybe their isolated land valued different things. All Negal had was a shoulder bag stuffed with paper, perhaps writing done while he was trapped here.
“You haven’t changed your mind?” Jade asked Negal. She