Windhaven

'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.

S'Rella, love, remember those rainbirds they left for us. They wanted to tell us something. You're a one-wing too.' She glanced out toward the dawn. 'And so am I. Maybe it's time I admitted it. I'm half-a-flyer and that's all I'll ever be.' She smiled for S'Rella. 'But I guess what matters is what half.'

S'Rella seemed puzzled, but Maris said, 'No more talk. You still have a few hours before the competition opens, and I want you to try to get some sleep. You have to win your wings today, remember?'

'I can't,' S'Rella protested. 'Not now.'

'Especially now,' Maris said. 'Whoever had this done to Val would be delighted to know that it lost you your wings as well as his. Do you want that?'

'No,' S'Rella said.

'Then sleep.'

Later, while S'Rella slept, Maris looked up again at the window. The sun was half-risen, its reddened face streaked with heavy dark clouds. It was going to be a good, windy day. A fine day for flying.

The competition was already well under way when Maris and S'Rella arrived. They had been delayed in the tavern when Raggin demanded immediate payment of Val's bill, and it had taken a long argument to convince him that he would get everything due him. Maris made him promise to tend to Val's needs, and allow no one else up those stairs.

Sena was at her usual station by the judges, watching the early contestants fly the gates. Maris sent S'Rella off to join the other Woodwingers, and hurried up the cliff. Sena was relieved to see her. 'Maris!'

she exclaimed. 'I was worried something was wrong. No one knew where you had gone. Are S'Rella and Val with you? It will be time soon. Sher is next up, in fact.'

'S'Rella is ready to fly,' Maris said. She told Sena about Val.

All the strength and vitality seemed to drain from the teacher as she listened. Her good eye clouded over with tears and she leaned more heavily on her cane, and suddenly she was very old indeed. 'I did not believe,' she muttered weakly. 'I did not — even when that terrible thing happened with the birds, even then — I could not think they would do such a thing.' Her face was the color of ash. 'Help me, child. I must sit down.'

Maris put an arm about her for support and led her to the judges' table, where Shalli looked up, concerned. 'Is everything all right?'

'No,' said Maris, easing Sena into a seat. 'Val will not fly today,' she continued, swinging around to face the judges. 'Last night he was attacked and beaten at the tavern where he had a room. An arm and a leg were broken.'

All of the judges looked shocked. 'How terrible,' Shalli said. The Easterner swore, the Outer Islander shook his head, and the Landsman of Skulny rose. 'This is dreadful. I won't allow this on my island. We'll find whoever did it, you have my promise on that.'

'A flyer did it,' Maris said, 'or paid for it, anyway. They broke his right arm and his right leg. One-Wing.

You understand.'

Shalli frowned. 'Maris, this is a horrid thing, but no flyer would do such a thing. And if you mean to imply that Corm would—'

'Do you have proof a flyer was involved?' the Easterner interrupted.

'I know the tavern where Val One-Wing was staying,' the Landsman said. 'The Iron Axe, was it not?

That is a very bad place, with the worst sort of patrons, rough people. It could have been anyone. A drunken fight, a jealous lover, a gambling quarrel. I've seen many beatings come before me from that place.'

Maris stared at him. 'You'll never find who did it, no matter what you promise,' she said. 'That isn't what concerns me. I want to take Val's wings back to him tonight.'

'Val's — wings?'

'I'm afraid,' the Southerner said, 'he must wait and try again next year. I am sorry he was hurt when he was so close to winning.'

'Close?' Maris looked the length of the table, found the box she sought, picked it up and rattled it at them. 'Nine black stones to one white. That is more than close. Val had won. Even if he lost five to nothing today, he had won.'

'No,' Shalli said stubbornly. 'Corm deserves his chance. I won't have you cheat him of it for One-Wing, no matter how sorry I feel for him. Corm is very good at the gates. He might have won ten to nothing, two stones from each of us, and then he would have kept his wings.'

'Ten to nothing,' Maris said. 'How likely is that?'

'It is possible,' Shalli said.

'It is,' echoed the Easterner. 'We can't give the victory to One-Wing. It would not be fair to Corm, who has flown well for many years. I think we must declare Val forfeit.'

Heads were bobbing up and down the table, but Maris only smiled. 'I was afraid you might take this position.' She put her hands on her hips and defied them. 'But Val will have his wings. Luckily there is a precedent. You set it yourselves last night, with S'Rella and Garth. Let the score stand and the match continue. Summon Corm.

'I will fly proxy for Val.'

And she knew they would not deny her.

Maris got her wings and joined the mill of contestants, impatient and increasingly nervous.

The gates had been erected during the night, nine flimsy wooden constructions planted firmly in the sand, in a course demanding a series of difficult turns and tacking maneuvers. The first gate, straight out from the flyers'