Windhaven

"Maybe that's so," Maris admitted. "He hasn't let me get to know him very well. Just — just be careful, all right, S'Rella? Val has a lot of hurt in him and sometimes people like that, when they've been hurt a lot, get back by hurting others, even those who care for them."

"I know," S'Rella said. "Maris, you don't think — they won't hurt him tonight, will they? The flyers?"

"I think he wants them to," Maris said, "so you'll see that he's right about them — about us. But I'm hoping that we'll prove him wrong."

S'Rella said nothing. Maris finished her drink and rose. "Come," she said. "There's still time for more practice, and you need it. Let's get our wings back on."

By early evening it was common knowledge among the flyers that Val One-Wing was on Skulny and intended to challenge. How the word had gotten out Maris was unsure. Perhaps Dorrel had said something, or perhaps Val had been recognized, or perhaps the news had come in from Eastern with some flyer who knew that Val had taken ship from Airhome. It was out and flying in any case. Twice Maris heard the epithet "One-Wing" as she and S'Rella walked back to their cabin in the flyer village, and outside their door a young flyer Maris knew casually from the Eyrie stopped her and asked point-blank if the rumor was true. When Maris admitted that it was, the other woman whistled and shook her head.

It was not quite dark when Maris and S'Rella wandered up to the lodge, but the main room was already half-full of flyers, drinking and talking in small clusters. The promised seacat was roasting on a spit above the fire, but by the look of it still had several hours to go.

Garth's sister, a stout plain-faced woman named Riesa, drew Maris a mug of her ale from one of three huge wooden casks that had been set along one wall. "It's good," Maris said after tasting. "Although I confess I'm no expert. Wine and kivas are my usual drinks."

Riesa laughed. "Well, Garth swears by it, and he's drunk enough ale in his time to float a small trading fleet."

"Where is Garth?" S'Rella asked. "I thought he'd be here."

"He should be, later," Riesa said. "He wasn't feeling well, so he sent me on ahead. I think it was just an excuse to avoid helping with the barrels, actually."

"Wasn't feeling well?" Maris said. "Riesa, is everything all right? He's been ill frequently of late, hasn't he?"

Riesa's pleasant smile faded. "Has he told you, Maris? I wasn't sure. It's only been the past half-year. It's his joints. When it gets bad, they swell up on him something terrible, and even when they aren't swelling he's got pain." She leaned a little closer. "I'm worried about him, in truth. Dorrel is too. He's seen healers, here and in Stormtown too, but no one has been able to do much. And he's drinking more than he used to."

Maris was appalled. "I knew Dorrel was fretting over him, but I thought it was just his drinking." She hesitated. "Riesa, has Garth told the Landsman about his troubles?"

Riesa shook her head. "No, he's—" She interrupted herself to draw a mug for a craggy-looking Easterner and resumed only after he had drifted away. "He's afraid, Maris."

"Why is he afraid?" S'Rella asked quietly, looking from Maris to Riesa and back again. She had been standing silently by Maris' elbow, listening.

"If a flyer is sick," Maris said, "the Landsman can call together the island's other flyers, and if they agree, he can take the wings from the sick one, lest they be lost at sea." She looked back toward Riesa. "Then Garth is still flying missions as if he were well," she said, with concern in her voice. "The Landsman isn't sparing him."

"No," Riesa said, chewing on her lip. "I'm frightened for him, Maris. The pain comes on so suddenly sometimes, and if it should come while he's flying — I've told him to speak to the Landsman, but he won't hear of it. His wings are everything to him, you know that. All you flyers are alike."

"I'll talk to him," Maris said firmly.

"Dorrel has spoken to him endlessly," Riesa said. "It does no good. You know how stubborn Garth can be."

"He should lay down his wings," S'Rella blurted suddenly.

Riesa gave her a hard look. "Child, you don't know what you are saying. You are the Woodwinger Garth met last night, are you not? Maris' friend?"

S'Rella nodded.

"Yes, Garth spoke of you," Riesa said. "You would understand better if you were a flyer. You and I, we can only watch from outside, we can never feel as a flyer feels about his wings. At least Garth has told me so."

"I will be a flyer," S'Rella insisted.

"Certainly you will, child," Riesa said, "but you are not now, and that is why you talk so easily of laying down the wings."

But S'Rella looked offended. She stood very stiffly and said, "I'm not a child, and I do understand." She might have said more, but just then the door opened and she and Maris both glanced in that direction.

Val had arrived.