Windhaven

helping them through their exercises, and telling them stories of famous flyers each night around the fire.

But increasingly she felt guilty over her prolonged absence from Lesser Amberly, and finally she took her leave, promising Sena she would return in time to help prepare the students for their challenges.

It was a full day's flight to Lesser Amberly. She was exhausted when she finally saw the fire burning in its familiar light tower, and very glad to collapse into her own long-empty bed. But the sheets were cold and the room was dusty, and Maris found it hard to sleep. Her own familiar house seemed cramped and strange to her now. She rose and went in search of a snack, but she had been gone too long — the little food left in the kitchen was stale or spoiled. Hungry and unhappy, she returned to a cold bed and a fitful sleep.

The Landsman's greeting was polite but aloof when she went to him the next morning. 'The times have been busy,' he said simply. 'I've sent for you several times, only to find you gone. Corm and Shalli have flown the missions instead, Maris. They grow weary. And now Shalli is with child. Are we to content ourselves with a single flyer, like a poor island half our size?'

'If you have flying for me to do, give it to me,' Maris replied. She could not deny the justice of his complaint, yet neither would she promise to stay away from Seatooth.

The Landsman frowned, but there was nothing else he could do. He recited a message to her, a long, involved message to the traders on Poweet, seed grain in return for canvas sails, but only if they would send the ships to get it, and an iron bribe for their support in some dispute between the Amberlys and Kesselar. Maris memorized it word for word without letting it fully touch her conscious mind, as flyers often did. And then she was off to the flyers' cliff and the sky.

Anxious not to let her get away again, the Landsman kept her occupied. No sooner would she return from one mission than up she went again on another; back and forth to Poweet four times, twice to Little Shotan, twice to Greater Amberly, once to Kesselar, once each to Culhall and Stonebowl and Laus (Dorrel was not at home, off on some mission himself), once on a long flight to Kite's Landing in Eastern.

When at last she found herself free to escape to Seatooth again, barely three weeks remained before the competition.

'How many do you intend to sponsor in challenges?' Maris asked. Somewhere outside rain and wind lashed the island, but the thick stone walls that enclosed them kept the weather far away. Sena sat on a low stool, a torn shirt in her hands, and Maris stood before her, warming her back by the fire. They were in Sena's room.

'I had hoped to ask your advice on that,' Sena said, looking up from her clumsy job of mending. 'I think four this year, perhaps five.'

'S'Rella certainly,' Maris said, thoughtfully. Her opinions might influence Sena, and Sena's sponsorship was all-important to the would-be flyers. Only those who won her approval were allowed to issue challenge. 'Damen as well. They are your best. After them — Sher and Leya, perhaps? Or Liane?'

'Sher and Leya,' Sena said, stitching. 'They would be impossible if I sponsored one and not the other. It will be chore enough to convince them that they cannot challenge the same person and race as a team.'

Maris laughed. Sher and Leya were two of the younger aspirants, inseparable friends. They were talented and enthusiastic, although they tired too easily and could be rattled by the unexpected. She had often wondered if their constant companionship gave them strength, or simply reinforced their similar faults. 'Do you think they can win?'

'No,' Sena said, without looking up. 'But they are old enough to try, and lose. The experience will do them good. Temper them. If their dreams cannot withstand a loss, they will never be flyers.'

Maris nodded. 'And Liane is the one in doubt.?'

'I will not sponsor Liane,' Sena said. 'He is not ready. I wonder if he will ever be ready.'

Maris was surprised. 'I've watched him fly,' she said. 'He is strong, and at times he flies brilliantly. I grant you that he is moody and erratic, but when he is good he is better than S'Rella and Damen together. He might be your best hope.'

'He might,' Sena said, 'but I will not sponsor him. One week he soars like a nighthawk, and the next he stumbles and tumbles like a child thrown into the air for the first time. No, Maris. I want to win, but a victory by Liane would be the worst thing that could happen to him. I would venture to bet that he would be dead within the year. The sky is no safe haven for one whose skills come and go with his moods.'

Reluctantly, Maris nodded. 'Perhaps you are wise,' she said. 'But who is your possible fifth, then?'

'Kerr,' Sena said. Setting her bone needle aside, she inspected the shirt she had been working on, then spread it across her table and sat back to regard Maris evenly with her one good eye.

'Kerr? He is nice enough, but he is nervous and overweight and uncoordinated, and his arms are not half as strong as they need to be. Kerr is hopeless, at least for the present. In a few years, perhaps…'

'His parents want him to race this year,' Sena said wearily. 'He has wasted two years already, they say.

They own a copper mine on Little Shotan, and are most anxious for Kerr to have his wings. They support the academy handsomely.'

'I see,' said Maris.

'Last year I told them no,' Sena continued. 'This year I am less certain of myself. Without a victory in this competition, the academy may lose its support from the Landsmen. Then only wealthy patrons will stand between us and closing. Perhaps it is best for everyone to keep them happy.'

'I understand,' Maris said. 'Though I do not entirely approve. Still, I suppose it cannot be helped. And it will do Kerr little enough harm to lose. At times he seems to enjoy playing the clown.'

Sena snorted. 'I think I must do it. Yet I hate it. I had hoped you could talk me out of it.'

'No,' said Maris. 'You overestimate my eloquence. I will give some advice, however. During these last weeks, reserve your wings solely for those who will challenge. They will need the seasoning. Occupy the others with exercises and lessons.'

'I have done so in past years,' Sena said. 'They also race mock contests against each other. I would have you contest with them too, if only to teach them how to lose. S'Rella challenged last year, and Damen has lost twice, but the others need the experience. Sher…'

' Sena, Maris, come quick!' The shout came from the hall, and a breathless Kerr suddenly appeared in the doorway. 'The Landsman sent someone, they need a flyer, they…' He panted, struggling with the words.

'Go with him, quickly,' Sena told Maris. 'I will hurry behind as fast as I am able.'

The stranger who waited in the common room among the students was also panting; he had run all the way from the Landsman's tower. Yet speech seemed to burst from him. 'You're the flyer?' He was young and obviously distraught, glancing about like a wild bird trapped in a cage.

Maris nodded.

'You must fly to Shotan. Please. And fetch their healer. The Landsman said to come to you. My brother is ill. Wandering in the head. His leg is broken — badly, I can see the bone — and he won't tell me how to fix it, or what to give him for his fever. Please, hurry.'

'Doesn't Seatooth have its own healer?' Maris asked.

'His brother is the healer,' volunteered Damen, a lean youth native to the island.

'What's the name of the healer on Big Shotan?' Maris asked, just as Sena came limping into the room.

The old woman immediately grasped the situation and took command. 'There are several,' she said.

'Hurry,' the stranger implored. 'My brother might die.'

'I don't think he'll die of a broken leg,' Maris began, but Sena silenced her with a gesture.

'Then you're a fool,' the youth said. 'He has a fever. He raves. He fell down the cliff face climbing after kite eggs, and he lay alone for almost a day before I found him. Please.'

'There's a healer on the near end named Fila,' Sena said. 'She's old and crotchety and doesn't care for sea travel, but her daughter lives with her and knows her arts. If she can't come, she'll tell you the name of another who can. Don't waste your time in Stormtown. The healers there will all want to weigh your metal before they gather their herbs. And stop at the South Landing and tell the ferry captain to wait for an important passenger.'

'I'll go at once,' Maris said, with only the briefest of glances for the stew pot that was steaming over the fire. She was hungry, but it could wait. 'S'Rella, Kerr, come help me with my wings.'

'Thank you,' the stranger muttered, but Maris and the students were already gone.