Moth (7 page)

She turned toward the prow. The river stretched ahead of her, a single strand of silver in endless blackness. Koyee stood, holding her hilt, watching the stars and moon. In the darkness, she could still see the eyes of the demon, one green and one black, small and staring.

 
 
CHAPTER SIX:
THE TOWERS OF PAHMEY

She thought the wilderness would never end.

Koyee stood upon her boat's prow, watching the darkness of Eloria spread all around. She had spent her life in Oshy upon the border, the glow of the day always to her west, but here full night engulfed every horizon. The moon shone overhead, casting its light upon the Inaro River and rocky plains. Distant black hills rolled to her south, silver limning their facades. Ahead, in the east, she saw only shadows.

The great constellations shone above: the dragon, the snake, the wolf, and many others. Koyee looked up at those stars and sought her constellation, the stars of the leaping fish. Most people worshiped the bright constellations of noble beasts. The fish was smaller and dimmer, but Koyee had chosen it long ago, not only because she was the daughter of a fisherman, but also because she felt sorry for the stars nobody prayed to. And so they had become
her
stars, and she prayed to them now.

"Protect me on my journey, Sky Fish. Look after me, and look after the spirit of my father."

She returned her eyes to the landscape, seeking the lights of a distant city, of the great Pahmey. She had heard so many tales of the place. They said that hundreds of thousands of people lived there. Koyee had spent her life in Oshy among a hundred souls; she could not imagine a thousand, let alone hundreds of thousands. They said the towers of that city touched the stars themselves, and that a million lamps glowed in windows and upon walls. Surely a city like that would shine like the moon itself, casting its glow for miles.

And yet, as
Lodestar
flowed downriver, Koyee saw no lights. Once she passed another boat, a dinghy with a lamp, two fishermen, and a single sail. The men waved at her and rowed on. She saw no more life.

Leaving the prow, she checked her hourglass, which she had placed upon the deck. Its bottom bulb was painted with a moon, the top with a sun. A few years ago, a peddler had sold her this trifle for five copper coins. The crazy old man had claimed that millennia ago the world would turn, night following day in an endless dance.

"The sand will flow from moon to sun for the length of an ancient day," he had said, presenting her with the hourglass. "The world has fallen still, but with this masterwork, you can measure the passage of stilled time. It's how they tell time in the big, eastern cities."

Koyee had laughed, thinking him a fool, but bought the hourglass, for its paintings were pretty and its sand glittered like gold. Of course the man had spoken only legends, but Koyee liked to pretend. Since that day years ago, she often let her hourglass run from day to night, then flipped it over again, pretending that the world still spun like in the stories, that the day of Timandra would shine upon Eloria, then retreat again. Often Koyee found it comforting to sleep throughout the night of her hourglass, waking as the sand filled its sunny bulb.

She gazed at the timepiece now. When first sailing out, she had set it sunny-side up, and now the sand was almost drained into its night half. Koyee yawned and her stomach rumbled. She rummaged through her pack and produced a jar of matsutakes—long pale mushrooms she favored. She ate them slowly, savoring each one, letting the earthy flavor spread across her tongue.

"We'll have to ration this food, Eelani," she said to her shoulder spirit. "It's only enough for several days, and I don't know where we'll find more, so don't be greedy."

She raised a mushroom to her shoulder and let Eelani eat. Sometimes she almost believed that Eelani truly nibbled, that the morsels grew smaller. Other times she thought she was crazy. She smiled, placed the mushroom in her mouth, and chewed slowly.

The last grain of sand in the hourglass faded into night. Koyee yawned and stretched.

"Will you watch over the boat, Eelani?" she asked. "I'm sleepy."

She could not be sure, but she thought she felt a weight lift from her shoulder, and the moonlight—for just an instant—seemed to catch a figure leaping onto the prow. Koyee smiled, flipped the hourglass over, and curled up on the boat floor.

She slept.

She woke and she slept again.

The hourglass turned and turned, a dance like the old days of the world.

The eternal night stretched on, as it had for thousands of years. The hourglass danced, its days following nights, and still Koyee sailed east upon the water, and still she saw no city lights.

One day they flowed through a field of crystals that covered the land, gleaming in the moonlight, a carpet of diamonds. The stars reflected in each one, and Koyee could barely tell sky from land. She felt as if the
Lodestar
floated along a stream of starlight, lost in an endless night sky.

Another day the river led her between towering cliffs, revealing only a strip of sky that mirrored the river. Coiling silkworms nestled upon the stone walls, each as large as Koyee, glowing blue and white and blinking lavender eyes. They crawled across the cliffs, weaving curtains of their silk that swayed and shimmered like ghosts, brushing against Koyee as she sailed by.

A third day and jagged boulders rose on the riverbanks, carved with faces, the eyes gleaming with emeralds. Each face rose larger than her boat, watching as she sailed by. Koyee did not know who had carved these sentinels, but they seemed ancient, their features smoothed with years of rain and wind. Nighthawks nested upon them, hundreds of black birds with silver eyes. As her boat sailed by, the flocks took flight, shrieked, and circled the moon before landing upon the faces again.

A fourth day and the river widened, and life bustled in the waters. Snakes with purple scales swam around her, coiling and uncoiling, and shimmering whales with translucent skin breached for air, their bones and organs alight. Blue fish leaped from the waters, trilling songs more beautiful than flutes and harps. One fish jumped into her boat; Koyee and Eelani blessed its gift and fed upon it.

She kept sailing and still the hourglass turned. And still the sand moved from day to night, and still they saw no city lights.

Sometimes Koyee wondered if Oshy was the lone settlement in Eloria, a humble village on the edge of dusk, and the rest of her realm was only plains of darkness and legends of light. Other times, Koyee feared that she had passed the city of Pahmey while she slept, and that Eelani—cursed, silent Eelani—had not woken her. Most times, Koyee simply stood at the prow, staring ahead into the darkness, and remembered.

So many memories floated here in the dark. She remembered the time her brother had left them, a youth with angry eyes, out to seek his fortune—much like Koyee now. She remembered the times playing
xin
with her father, a game of moving shells upon a bone. And she remembered burying his own bones. And she remembered the Timandrian who had returned them, the young demon with one green eye, one black—eyes like the world.

"He stared right at me," she whispered to the river. "He stared at me, and I thought he would attack me, but he only stared. He only left the bones and returned to his land of sunfire." She lowered her head. "I wonder, Eelani, if more are attacking our village as we sail here. I wonder if we will bring aid fast enough."

The days stretched on, some days alight with crystals and fish, others dark and silent and long, days of flowing through endless darkness that even Koyee's large eyes could not pierce. Her jars of preserves dwindled, and she lifted her rod and fished as she sailed. Here in the deep dark, far from the dusk, the fish were different—bulbs of light tipped their spines, some carried fleshy lanterns upon stalks, and others glowed with inner lights. They were beautiful things of blue and purple scales, and their flesh was white and tender. They lit Koyee's way and filled her stomach. She sailed on through the night.

On the tenth hourglass turn, nibbling on fish bones, Koyee saw the lights ahead and lost her breath.

She propped herself onto wobbly elbows, leaned forward, and squinted. At first she thought these were more crystals reflecting the moonlight, or perhaps only an illusion of her lonely mind. The lights gleamed miles away, rising from the horizon, a cluster that glowed blue and green and silver.

"Do you see them too, Eelani?" she asked. The spirit hopped upon her shoulder, and Koyee could swear she felt her invisible friend tug her hair.

She rose to her feet, teetered toward the prow with arms extended for balance, and stared into the distance. Cold wind ruffled her hair, scented of spices and sweetness. The clump of lights grew larger, emerging from the horizon to reveal soaring, thin towers. Lights gleamed within them in all colors, brighter than the stars.

"It's a city," Koyee whispered and her eyes dampened. "It's a great city of glass and light. We will find aid here."

The river took her closer, revealing more of the city. Dozens—maybe hundreds—of towers rose here, smaller in the outskirts and rising into great pillars in the center. Bridges ran between them, snaking like the tangled lines of fishermen. Walls surrounded the city, topped with strings of lanterns like glimmering dew upon cobwebs. More lights gleamed upon the water below the city; hundreds of boats sailed upon the river, entering and leaving the hub of light.

Koyee trembled as she stood at the prow; whether she shook from fear or excitement, she didn't know.

"The city of Pahmey," she whispered. "The jewel of the Qaelin nation. We sail toward one of the greatest cities in all of Eloria."

As they drew nearer, the river widened and many boats sailed around them. Some rose thrice the
Lodestar
's height, windows lining their hulls, their battened sails wide and painted with silver moons; merchants sauntered upon their decks, clad in blue silks embroidered with stars, their bellies ample and their hats wide. Other boats were long and narrow and creaky; bare-chested fishermen rowed them, and fish flapped in baskets upon their decks. Some boats seemed built for pleasure; wealthy women stood upon them, their silks embroidered with dragons, their jewels alight, their faces painted white and blue.

Koyee dipped her oar in the water and navigated around the other boats. Dozens flowed around her, lanterns swinging, and beads of light glimmered upon the water. She drew closer to the city, and its light too fell upon her. She craned her neck back and gasped.

Pahmey was built of stone, crystal, and glass. Walls surrounded its innards, a shell of smooth, black bricks that reflected the lights like a starry sky. Hundreds of guards stood upon the walls, clad in silvery scales. Their long white hair flowed in the wind, but steel visors filigreed with runes hid their faces. Each man held a spear, its shaft bearing the banner of the Qaelin empire—a moon within a star. Iron statues—dragons, wolves, and serpents—rose between the walls' guardians, lanterns burning in their eyes, sentinels of metal and fire.

Behind the walls rose the towers of Pahmey. Koyee saw dozens of them, molded of crystal and glass. People moved behind their windows, their silken robes flowing. Some towers were green, others blue. The tallest among them rose from the city center, its crystal walls silver, its crest shaped like a full moon. Koyee had heard travelers speak of this place, and she gasped to see it. Here rose Minlao Palace, the palace of moonglow, the center of Pahmey's power. Distant figures seemed to move within that crystal moon, watching the city.

"The elders of Pahmey live up there, Eelani," Koyee whispered, pointing at the palace. "They are very wise, and they can help us."

But most amazing of all, Koyee thought, were not these towers but what floated above them. Her father had told her stories of hot air balloons, but Koyee had always thought them only legends. Yet here, above Pahmey, she saw several of the flying ships. Each one seemed a hundred times larger than her boat. Patchworks of silk formed each balloon, blue and gold and white, and men stood within their baskets, gazing down upon the crystal city.

"Pahmey," Koyee whispered. "Look at it, Eelani. It's a bit larger than home, isn't it?" She smiled. "Do you think we'll find my brother here?"

After leaving home years ago, had Okado too found his way to this hub of light? Did he even stand upon these walls now, looking down upon her, a guard of the city? Koyee had not seen her brother since she'd been only six; if she met Okado here, would she even recognize him? She gripped the hilt of Sheytusung, the silk soft and comforting.

The city docks stretched out ahead. Koyee steered her boat toward them, dodging junk ships large and small. The docks spread out like the branches of trees back in the dusk. Countless vessels swayed here, tethered to posts, some great ships with wide sails and lofty masts, others fishing dinghies no larger than her own. Koyee oared carefully, nearly knocking into a towering ship with three stories of portholes. She maneuvered around a buoy, past a pier bustling with fishermen, and toward a dock lined with boats.

As Koyee rowed along, searching for a place to moor, people bustled about the docks. Some walked toward the city, bearing baskets of leather and bone, fish and clams and crabs bustling inside. A few people seemed to be merchants; they wore rich silks embroidered with silver and gold, and jewels hung around their necks. Some were buskers, playing lutes and harps or singing for coins, while others sat and begged. One boy, a scrawny little thing clad only in a loincloth, grabbed a coin from a merchant's pocket, then dived into the water and swam away.

"So many people, Eelani!" Koyee said. "There might be thousands of them.
Hundreds
of thousands. I never imagined so many people could live in one place."

Koyee looked down at her clothes, a simple tunic of white fur, leaving her legs and feet bare. Nobody else here wore fur; most people wore silk, the fabrics elaborate and embroidered. Koyee had never felt poorer, never felt so much the humble fisherman's daughter from Oshy.