Windhaven

'Oh, wandering. In love with a singer. I haven't heard from her in a month.'

Evan brought in two steaming mugs of tea, his own special brew, fragrant with white blossoms, and then discreetly vanished.

'Any news from the Eyrie?' Maris asked.

'A little, but none of it good. Jamis vanished on a flight from Geer to Little Shotan. The flyers fear him lost at sea.'

'Oh,' Maris said, 'I'm sorry. I never knew him well, but he was said to be a good flyer. His father presided over the flyers' Council, back when we adopted the academy system.'

S'Rella nodded. 'Lori of Varon gave birth,' she continued, 'but the child was sickly, and died within the week. She's distraught; Garret too, of course. And T'katin's brother was killed in a storm. He captained a trading ship, you know. They say the storm took the whole fleet. These are hard times, Maris. I've heard they are warring again on Lomarron.'

'They may be warring on Thayos too, before very long,' Maris said gloomily. 'Don't you have any cheerful news?'

S'Rella shook her head. 'The Eyrie was not a cheerful place. I got the feeling I was not terribly welcome.

One-wings never go there, but there I was, violating the last sanctuary of the flyer-born. It made them all uneasy, though Corina and a few others tried to be polite.'

Maris nodded. It was an old story. Tensions between the flyers born to wings and the one-wings who had taken theirs in competition had been growing for years. Each year saw more land-bound take to the air, and the old flyer families felt more threatened. 'How is Val?' she asked.

'Val is Val,' S'Rella said. 'Richer than ever, but otherwise he doesn't change. The last time I visited Seatooth, he was wearing a belt of linked metal. I can't imagine what it cost. He works with the Woodwingers a lot. They all look up to him. The rest of the time he spends partying in Stormtown with Athen and Damen and Ro and the rest of his one-wing cronies. I hear he's taken up with a land-bound woman on Poweet, but I don't think he's bothered to tell Cara. I tried to scold him about it, but you know how self-righteous Val can get…'

Maris smiled. 'Ah, yes,' she said. She sipped at her tea as S'Rella continued, the talk ranging all over Windhaven. They gossiped about other flyers, spoke of friends and family and places where they both had been, continuing a long-running, far-ranging conversation. Maris felt comfortable, happy and relaxed.

Her captivity would not last much longer — she would be walking again in a matter of days, and then she could begin to exercise and work out, to get back in flying trim— and S'Rella, her closest friend, was now beside her to remind her of her real life that waited beyond these thick walls, and to help her back into it.

A few hours later Evan joined them with plates of cheese and fruit, freshly baked herb bread and eggs scrambled with wild onions and peppers. They all sat on the big bed and ate hungrily. Conversation, or new hope, had given Maris a ravenous appetite.

The conversation turned to politics. 'Will there really be war here?' S'Rella asked. 'What's the cause?'

'A rock,' Evan grumbled. 'A rock barely a half-mile across and two miles long. It doesn't even have a name. It sits square in the Tharin Strait between Thayos and Thrane, and everyone thought it was worthless. Only now they've found iron on it. It was a party from Thrane that found the ore and began working it, and they aren't about to give up their claim, but the rock is marginally closer to Thayos than it is to Thrane, so our Landsman is trying to grab it. He sent a dozen landsguard to seize the mine, but they were beaten off, and now Thrane is fortifying the rock.'

'Thayos doesn't seem to have a strong claim,' S'Rella said. 'Will your Landsman really go to war over it?'

Evan sighed. 'I wish I thought otherwise. But the Landsman of Thayos is a belligerent man, and a greedy one. He beat Thrane once before, in a fishing dispute, and he's certain he can do it again. He'd rather kill any number of people than compromise.'

'The message I was to fly to Thrane was full of threats,' Maris offered. 'I'm surprised war hasn't broken out already.'

'Both islands are gathering allies, arms, and promises,' Evan said. 'I am told flyers come and go from the keep every day. No doubt the Landsman will press a threat or two on you, S'Rella, when you leave. Our own flyers, Tya and Jem, haven't had a day's rest for the past month. Jem has carried most of the messages back and forth across the Strait, and Tya has carried offers and promises to dozens of potential allies. Luckily, none of them seem interested. Time after time she has come back with refusals. I think it is only that keeping the war at bay.' He sighed again. 'But it is only a matter of time,' he said, his voice weary. 'And there will be much killing before it is all over. I'll be called in to patch up those who can be patched up. It's a mockery — a healer in wartime treats the symptoms without being allowed to talk about healing the actual cause, the war itself, unless he wants to be locked up as a traitor.'

'I suppose I should be relieved to be out of it,' Maris said. But her voice was reluctant. She didn't feel as Evan did about war; flyers stayed above such conflicts, just as they skimmed above the treacherous sea.

They were neutrals, never to be harmed. Objectively war was a thing to be regretted, but war had never touched Maris or any of those she had loved, and she could not feel the horror of it deeply. 'When I was younger, I could learn a message without ever hearing it, really. I seem to have lost the talent. Some of the words I've carried have taken the joy out of flight.'

'I know,' S'Rella agreed. 'I've seen the results of some messages I've flown, and sometimes I feel very guilty.'

'Don't,' Maris said. 'You are a flyer. You aren't responsible.'

'Val disagrees, you know,' S'Rella said. 'I argued it with him once. He thinks we are responsible.'

'That's understandable,' Maris said.

S'Rella frowned at her, uncomprehending. 'Why?'

'I'm surprised he never told you,' Maris said. 'His father was hanged. A flyer carried the order for the execution from Lomarron to South Arren. Arak, in fact. You remember Arak?'

'Too well,' S'Rella said. 'Val always suspected Arak was behind that beating he got. I remember how angry he was when he couldn't find his assailants to prove anything.' She smiled wryly. 'I also remember the party he threw on Seatooth when Arak died, black cake and all.'

Evan was looking at the two women thoughtfully. 'Why do you carry messages if you feel guilty about them?' he asked S'Rella.

'Why, because I'm a flyer,' S'Rella said. 'It's my job. It's what I do. The responsibility comes with the wings.'

'I suppose,' Evan said. He stood and began collecting the empty plates. 'I don't think I could take that attitude, frankly. But I'm a land-bound, not a flyer. I wasn't born to wings.'

'Nor were we,' Maris started to say, but Evan left the room. She felt a flash of annoyance, but S'Rella began to talk again; Maris was drawn back into the conversation, and it wasn't very long until she had forgotten what she was annoyed about.

At last it was time for the casts to be cut off. Her legs were to be freed, and Evan promised that it would not be much longer for her arm.

Maris cried out at the sight of her legs. They were so thin and pale, so odd-looking. Evan began to massage them gently, washing them with a warm, herb-scented solution, and gently, skillfully kneading the long-unused muscles. Maris sighed with pleasure and relaxed.

When at last Evan had done, and he rose and put away the bowl and cloth, Maris thought she would burst with impatience. 'Can I walk?' she asked.

Evan looked at her, grinning. 'Can you?'

Her heart lifted at the challenge, and she sat up and slipped her legs over the edge of the bed. S'Rella offered her support, but Maris shook her head slightly, motioning her friend away.

Then she stood. On her own two feet, without support. But there was something wrong. She felt dizzy and sick. She said nothing but her face gave her away.

Evan and S'Rella moved closer. 'What's wrong?' Evan asked.

'I, I must have stood up too fast.' She was sweating, and afraid to move, afraid she would fall or faint or throw up.

'Take it easy,' Evan said. 'There's no rush.' His voice was warm and soothing, and he took her good arm.