have united to prove the truth of that.'
'Tya died wearing these wings,' Sahn said. 'He gave them to me.'
'The wings are yours. No one blames you,' Maris said. 'But your Landsman should not have done as he did. If you care, if you agree that Tya's death was wrong, join us. Do you have any black clothing?'
'Black? I — well, yes.'
'Are you mad?' the Landsman said. He pointed at Sahn with his knife. 'Seize that fool.'
Hesitantly, two of the landsguard started forward.
'Stay away from me!' Sahn said loudly. 'I'm a flyer, damn you!'
And they stopped, looking back at the Landsman.
He pointed again, his mouth twitching. He seemed to be having difficulty finding words. 'You will — you will take Sahn, and—'
He never finished. The doors to the chamber burst open then, and Coll was dragged bodily into the room by a brace of guards. They shoved him forward toward the Landsman; he stumbled to his hands and knees, then rose unsteadily. The right side of his face was a massive purplish bruise, and his eyes were as black as his clothing.
'Coll!' Maris said, horrified.
Coll managed a feeble smile. 'My fault, big sister. But I'm all right.' Evan went to him and examined his face.
'I did not order this,' the Landsman said.
'You said he shouldn't sing,' a landsguard replied. 'He wouldn't stop singing.'
'He's all right,' Evan said. 'The bruise will heal.'
Maris sighed in relief. Despite all their talk of death, it had been a shock to see Coll's face. 'I'm tired of this,' she said to the Landsman. 'Listen, if you want to hear my terms.'
'Terms?' His tone was incredulous. 'I am Landsman of Thayos, and you are nothing, no one. You cannot give me terms.'
'I can and will. You'd do well to listen. If you don't, you won't be the only one to suffer. I don't think you realize the position you and Thayos are in. All over this island, your people are singing Coll's song, and the singers are moving from island to island, spreading it through the world. Soon everyone will know how you had Tya killed.'
'She was a liar, a traitor.'
'A flyer is not a subject, and cannot be a traitor,' Maris said, 'and she lied to stop a senseless war. Oh, she'll always be controversial. But you'd be a fool to underestimate the power of the singers. You're becoming a widely hated man.'
'Silence,' the Landsman said.
'Your people have never loved you,' Maris continued. 'They're frightened, too. The black flyers scare them, singers are being arrested, flyers are hanged, trade has been suspended, the war you started turned sour, even your landsguard are deserting. And you are the cause of it all. Sooner or later, they will think of getting rid of you. Already they know that nothing else will cause the black flyers to leave.
'The stories are everywhere,' Maris went on. 'Thayos is cursed, Thayos is unlucky, Tya haunts the keep, the Landsman is mad. You will be shunned, like the first mad Landsman, like Kennehut. But your people will only endure it for a short time. They know the solution. They will rise against you. The singers will light the spark. The black flyers will fan the flames. You will be consumed.'
The Landsman smiled a sly, frightening smile. 'No,' he said. 'I will kill you all, and have an end to it.'
She smiled back at him. 'Evan is a healer who has given his life to Thayos, and hundreds owe him their very lives. Coll is among the greatest singers of Windhaven, known and loved on a hundred islands. And I am Maris of Lesser Amberly, the girl in the songs, the one who changed the world. I'm a hero to people who have never met me. You'll kill the three of us? Fine. The black flyers will watch and spread the news, the singers will make the songs. How long do you think you will rule then? The next flyers' Council will not be divided — Thayos will become like Kennehut, a dead land.'
'Liar,' the Landsman said. He fingered his knife.
'We mean no harm to your people,' Maris said. 'Tya is dead, and nothing will bring her back. But you will accept my terms, or everything I've warned you of will happen. First, you will give over Tya's body so she can be flown out to sea, and cast from a height, as flyers are always buried. Second, you will make peace, as she wished. You will renounce all claim to the mine that started your war with Thrane.
Third, you will send a poor child to Airhome academy every year, to train for wings. Tya would like that, I think. And finally, finally' — Maris paused briefly, watching the storm behind his eyes, and plunged on regardless —'you will renounce your office and retire, and your family will be taken from Thayos, to some island where you are not known, and can live out your days in peace.'
The Landsman was running his thumb along the edge of the knife. He had cut himself, but he did not seem to notice. A tiny drop of blood spotted the white silk of his fine shirt. His mouth twitched. In the sudden stillness that followed her words, Maris felt faint and tired. She had done all she could. She had said all that she could say. She waited.
Evan's arm went around her, and in the corner of her eye she saw Coll's bruised lips twist into a slight smile, and abruptly Maris felt almost good again. Whatever happened, she had done her best. She felt as if she had just returned from a long, long flight; her limbs ached and trembled, and she was damp and chilled through to the bone, but she remembered the sky and the lift of her wings, and that was enough.
She was satisfied.
'Terms,' the Landsman said. His tone was poisonous.
He rose from his throne, the blood-smeared knife in his hand. 'I will give you terms,' he said. He pointed the knife at Evan. 'Take the old man and cut off his hands,' he ordered. 'Then cast him out and let him heal himself. That ought to be a sight to see.' He laughed, and his hand moved sideways, so the knife was pointing at Coll. 'The singer loses one hand and a tongue.' The knife shifted again. 'As to you,' he said, when the blade pointed at Maris, 'since you like the color black, I will give you your fill of it. I will put you in a cell without a window or a light, where it is black day and night, and you will stay there until you have forgotten what sunlight
Maris felt the tears in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. 'I am sorry for your people,' she said softly. 'They did nothing to deserve you.'
'Take them,' the Landsman said, 'and do as I have ordered!'
The landsguard looked at each other. One took a hesitant step forward, and stopped when he saw he was alone.
'What are you waiting for?' the Landsman shrieked. '
'Sir,' said a tall, dignified woman in the uniform of a high officer, 'I beg you to reconsider. We cannot maim a singer, or imprison Maris of Lesser Amberly. It would be the end of us. The flyers would destroy us all.'
The Landsman stared at her, then pointed with his knife. 'You are under arrest as well, traitor. You will have the cell next to hers, if you like her so well.' To the other landsguard, he said, 'Take them.'
No one moved.
'Traitors,' he muttered, 'I am surrounded by traitors. You will all die, all of you.' His eyes found Maris.
'And you, you will be the first. I will do it myself.'
Maris was achingly aware of the knife in his hand, the dull bronze length of it, the smear of blood along the blade. She felt Evan tense beside her. The Landsman smiled and walked toward them.
'Stop him,' said the tall woman he had tried to arrest. Her voice was weary but firm. At once the Landsman was surrounded. A burly bear of a man held his arms, and a slim young woman took the knife from his grasp as easily and fluidly as if she had pulled it from a sheath. 'I'm sorry,' said the woman who had taken charge.
'Let me go!' he demanded. 'I am Landsman here!'
'No,' she answered, 'no. Sir, I fear you are very sick.'
The grim, ancient keep had never seen such festivity.
The gray walls were decked with bright banners and colored lanterns, and smells of food and wine, wood smoke and fireworks permeated the air. The gates had been opened wide to all. Landsguard still roamed the keep, but few were in uniform, and weapons were forgotten.
