Windhaven

Maris came closer. Val was holding S'Rella tight with his left hand, clutching at her, pulling. But his right arm just lay still along his side, and there was something wrong, blood on the sheet beneath it. The angle at which it lay was impossible, and his jacket was ripped, bloody. She knelt by the right side of the bed and touched his arm gingerly, and Val shrieked so loudly that S'Rella jumped away, terrified. It was only then that Maris saw the jagged edge of bone peeking through his skin and clothing.

Raggin was observing them from the doorway. "His arm's broke, don't touch it," he said helpfully. "He screams when you do. You shoulda heard the noise he made when I carried him up here. I think his leg's broke too, but I'm not sure."

Val had quieted, but his breath came in painful gasps. Maris was on her feet. "Why didn't you call a healer?" she demanded of Raggin. "Why didn't you give him something for the pain?"

Raggin drew back, shocked, as if those ideas had never occurred to him. "I got you, didn't I? Who's gonna pay a healer? He's not, that's for sure. Don't have near enough. I went through his things."

Maris balled her fists and tried to control her fury. "You're going to go and fetch a healer right now," she said. "And I don't care if you have to run ten miles, you're going to do it fast. If you don't, I swear I'll talk to the Landsman and have this place closed."

"Flyers." The barkeep spat. "Throwing your weight around, eh? Well, I'll go, but who's gonna pay this healer? That's what I want to know, and he'll want to know too."

"Damn you," Maris said. "I'll pay, damn you, I'll pay. He's a flyer, and if his bones don't heal right, if they aren't taken care of, he'll never fly again. Now hurry!"

Raggin gave her a last sour look and turned for the stairs. Maris went back to Val's bedside. He was making whimpering noises and trying to move, but every motion seemed to wrack him with pain.

"Can't we help him?' S'Rella said, glancing up at Maris.

"Yes," Maris said. "This is a tavern, after all. Go downstairs and find the stock, bring up a few bottles.

That should help a little with the pain, until the healer arrives."

S'Rella nodded and started for the door. "What should I bring?" she asked. "Wine?"

"No, we need something stronger. Look for some brandy. Or — that liquor from Poweet, what do they call it? — they make it from grain and potatoes—"

S'Rella nodded and was gone. Shortly she returned with three bottles of local brandy and an unmarked flask that gave off a pungent, potent smell. "Strong stuff," Maris said. She tasted it herself, then had S'Rella hold up Val's head while she dribbled it into his mouth. He seemed anxious to cooperate, sucking down the drink eagerly as they took turns pouring it into him.

When Raggin finally returned with a healer more than an hour later, Val had passed out. "Here's your healer," the barkeep said. He took one look at the empty bottles on the floor and added, "You'll pay for those too, flyer."

When the healer had set Val's arm and leg — Raggin had been right, it was broken as well, though not as badly— and splinted them, and treated his swollen face, he gave Maris a small bottle full of a dark green liquid. "This is better than brandy," he said. "It will numb the pain and let him sleep." He departed, leaving Maris and S'Rella alone with Val.

"It was flyers, wasn't it?" S'Rella asked tearfully as they sat together in the smoky, candle-lit room.

"One arm and one leg broken, and the other side not touched," Maris said angrily. "Yes, that says flyer to me. I don't think any flyer could have done this personally, but I suspect it was a flyer who had it done."

On a sudden impulse Maris moved to where Val's bloodstained, torn clothing had been piled, and rummaged through it. "Hmm. Just as I thought. His knife is gone. Maybe they took it, or maybe he just had it in his hand and dropped it."

"I hope he cut them, whoever it was," S'Rella said. "Do you think it was Corm? Because Val was going to take his wings tomorrow?"

"Today," Maris said ruefully, glancing toward the window. The first blush of dawn was visible against the eastern sky. "But, no, it wasn't Corm. Not that Corm wouldn't gladly destroy Val if he could, but he'd do it legally, not like this. Corm is too proud to resort to beatings."

"Who, then?"

Maris shook her head. "I don't know, S'Rella. Some sick person, obviously. Maybe a friend of Corm's, or a friend of Ari's. Maybe Arak or one of his friends. Val made a lot of enemies."

"He wanted me to go with him," S'Rella said guiltily, "but I went to see Garth instead. If I had gone with him like he wanted, this wouldn't have happened."

"If you had gone with him," Maris said, "you'd probably be lying there broken and bleeding as well.