sea, that might travel to this shore.”
Nobent leaned forward. Out of the corner of his eye, Moon saw the outer branches of the boat stir slightly. Nobent smiled, deliberately revealing a toothless mouth. If he was meant to live like this, floating atop the sea, then there might be a second mouth in the bottom of the mossy-covered base that supported his upper limbs. Top one for talking, lower one for eating, Moon thought. It wasn’t the oddest thing he had seen. The branches looked stiff, but he bet they could whip around, seize prey, and snatch it under water. Obviously the Kek didn’t fear the creature, but there was hardly any meat on their light bones. It said, “Old Nobent doesn’t hear well. Come closer.”
Oh please, Moon thought. “Does that really work?”
Nobent hesitated, nonplussed, and something made Moon think that “Old Nobent” wasn’t so old. Nobent’s lips curled in derision. “You’re not scared of old Nobent? Nobent isn’t scary.”
Nobent was, however, annoyingly single-minded. This could go on forever. Moon shifted, flared his spines, snapped his wings out so they were half-unfurled. “I am.”
With a startled snarl, Nobent jerked back. His whole structure rocked and splashed water up onto the pier. Unimpressed, Moon flicked droplets off his claws. He said, mildly, “I’m not hungry yet.”
Nobent crouched, tugged his branches in tightly and made a protective cage around himself. “What do you want?”
“You know what I want. Tell me about groundlings who live out on the sea. Are there islands out there? Cities, traders? Do they come to this shore?”
Nobent eased forward, the fear in his expression turning into crafty greed. “Are you Fell? I’ve heard of Fell. You want the sea-goers? I’ll help.”
Moon controlled the urge to leap forward and rip Nobent’s head off. The fear of Fell had dogged him most of his life. All Fell were shapeshifters, all had black scales, and Fell rulers strongly resembled Raksuran consorts. It didn’t help that once Moon had thought he might be a Fell, for a brief and self-destructive time that he was still paying for, all these turns later. His voice tight, he said, “If I were a Fell, I’d take your help and eat you anyway. Tell me about the sea-goers.”
Nobent settled into his mossy bed and his branches relaxed a little. “The sea-goers don’t come here. They’re afraid of the forest.” With an air of injured dignity, he volunteered, “The Kek trade their rushes and edilvine to me, and I trade it to the sea-goers.”
That wasn’t helpful, though it explained why the Kek didn’t know much about what lay further out to sea. And if the sea-goers were afraid of the forest Reaches, it might be because they knew about the Raksuran colonies. “But other groundlings come to this shore, other traders?”
“Maybe.” Nobent seemed uninterested, and it was the first time in the conversation that Moon felt the waterling was being honest. “Not in a long time. There’s nothing here for them.”
“What about the far side of the sea? Do groundlings live there?”
“Probably.” Nobent leaned forward, eyes widening. “You want the seagoers.”
“Do they live in that direction?” Moon pointed with the tip of his right wing.
“Sometimes. They move around.” Nobent was more interested in his own questions. “What do you want them for? Nobent can help you, whatever you want to do to them.”
Moon couldn’t imagine what form Nobent’s “help” would take, and he didn’t want to. He countered with, “What do you trade for from the sea-goers?”
For some reason, that one made Nobent more cagey than ever. Moon asked more questions about the sea-goers, about what they looked like, why they moved around. Nobent’s answers were so cryptic it quickly became obvious that he had no intention of imparting the information. Moon decided to let it go, at least for now. He had found out what he really needed to know: there were groundlings living out on the sea at the point where the mentors’ map said the seed lay. Nobent couldn’t travel very fast, and now that Moon had his scent, he would be easy to track down again.
He stood, abruptly enough that Nobent sloshed backward again. With a somewhat nervous sneer, Nobent said, “You’re leaving? Too bad.”
“It’s getting late, and I’m hungry.” Moon cocked his head, letting the meaning sink in. He didn’t usually threaten to eat people, but he was having difficulty classifying Nobent as “people.” “I might be back.”
He walked up the pier to rejoin Khitah and Chime. “Good?” Khitah asked.
“Good,” Moon told