Windhaven

Maris would have given the judgment to Sher by a slight margin, but when she looked she found the judges had been more critical of the Woodwinger than she. Two had given the victory to the flyer, two had called it even, and only one had cast for Sher, who was now down eleven stones to three.

Sena sighed when Maris told her the count. "I've grown used to it. I always hate the stunting. Perhaps the judges try to be fair, but the bias creeps in nonetheless. Nothing can be done about it, except to have our Woodwingers fly so well that they can't be denied their victories."

Leya was next, with the same sequence Sher had flown, all basic, but with less luck. The wind shifted during the match, robbing Leya of the fluid grace that Maris had so often seen her display, giving her flight a ragged appearance. And several times gusts threw her sideways, breaking up what had been well-executed turns. Her rival had trouble as well, but less. Four judges gave him their stones, and only one made it a tie, leaving Leya behind ten to one.

Damen was more ambitious than either of them. Today, when Arak threw insults at him, Damen spat them right back, which brought a smile to Maris' lips. And he began with a passable imitation of the spectacular swoop-on-the-beach that the flyer Lane had used. Arak tried to shadow him, to fly so close that Damen would be forced to break off his glide clumsily, but Damen twisted away with a graceful bank and vanished into a cloud, losing the older flyer. One of the judges, the Outer Islander, grumbled about Arak's tactics, but the others only shrugged. "Whatever else he might be, he is still the better flyer,"

the Easterner insisted. "Note how tight his turns are. The boy is spirited, but slipshod." Maris had to admit that she was right; Damen habitually slid wide on turns, especially downwind turns.

When they scored it, four judges cast for Arak, only the Outer Islander for Damen.

" ]on of Culhall, Kerr the Woodwinger!" the crier bellowed. The wind was gusting, and Kerr was as clumsy as ever.

After a few minutes, Sena faced Maris. "Even with one eye, this is painful to watch," she said.

Jon of Culhall accumulated another eight white pebbles, and Maris felt sorry for Kerr.

"Corm of Lesser Amberly" announced the crier, " Val One-Wing, Val of South Arren!"

They stepped into view on the flyers' cliff, wings strapped in place but folded, and Maris could feel a ripple of excitement go through the onlookers. People along the beach were making noise, and even the lands-guard and attendants who stood near the Landsman moved closer to watch.

Corm was not laughing or joking today. He stood as silently as Val, his dark hair tossing in the wind, while his wings were unfolded and locked by others. Val, as usual, waved away the help.

"Corm can be quite graceful," Maris warned Sena. "Val may have trouble today."

"Yes," Sena agreed, glancing at Shalli's seat among the judges.

The crowd was growing impatient; the two flyers still had not launched. Corm's helpers had stepped back from him, and he stood with his silver wings fully extended, but Val had made no move to unfold his own. Instead he kept examining the joints of one wing, as if looking for something wrong. Corm said something to him, sharply, and Val looked up from what he was doing and made a broad gesture.

"All right," Corm said clearly, and then he was running and an instant later he was aloft.

"There's Corm," Shalli said. "Where's One-Wing?"

"Doesn't he know that this will cost him?" Sena muttered.

Maris gripped Sena tightly by the elbow. "He's going to do it again," she said urgently.

"Do what?" Sena said, but even as she spoke a light broke over her face and Maris knew she understood.

Val jumped.

It was a long way down, and only sand and spectators below; trickier and more dangerous than the same stunt over water. But he was doing it, falling, his wings flapping behind him like a silver cape. Shalli and the Southern judge jumped to their feet, two of the landsguard rushed to the cliffside, even the crier gave a grunt of surprise. Maris heard people screaming, somewhere below.

Val's wings took flower.

For an instant it did not seem to be enough. He still fell, speed increasing, even with the wings fully extended. But then he yanked himself to one side and that did it; suddenly he was veering up sharply, angling over the beach and out toward sea. People were dropping to the sand, and someone was still screaming, but there was shouting as well.

Then silence, a hush, a long indrawn breath. Val skimmed the waves, gliding as if over ice, and smoothly began to rise. Serenely he flew out to where Corm, almost unnoticed, had just performed a difficult loop.

The applause began, and the cheering, and all along the shore land-bound began clapping and chanting the refrain, "One-Wing, One-Wing, One-Wing," over and over. Even Lane's spectacular plunge had not thrilled them as Val had.