'It's all right. You're doing fine. Just relax and don't think too hard.'
'I always think too hard,' he grated.
'This would be a good time to learn to trust your instincts.'
'Do you have to let go?'
'Yes. I'll still be tied to you, and I'll reel myself back down if I have to. But if I try to land with you, we're both going to crash. There's no way we can synchronize our backbeating well enough to land together, not on your first flight.'
He was silent, but at last she felt him nod.
'Okay. Keep your arms locked into a glide for a minute.'
As soon as they'd steadied into a glide, she locked her wings and pulled one arm free, uncoiling the line that bound them together.
'Remember, I'm right here. I'm not going to let you fall. Do you trust me?' She worked her arm back into the wing.
He nodded again, jerkily.
'Okay. Stay in a glide until I tell you otherwise.' She lifted her wingtips up and let them separate, moving ahead and over him. The safety line slithered down in a long arc between them.
'One stroke up. Lift your wings. That's it. Now downstroke.' Taya kept herself behind him as he gingerly pushed forward. The line cleared his wings. 'Good. Again. Up — down.'
She let the distance between them increase. They drew closer to the mountaintop as the sun rose higher, its bright rim peeking over the cliffs.
'Good! Now, tilt your wings down just a little. A little! Don't flap so hard. We're heading to that bare spot of dirt on the left of the courtyard. See it?'
'Yes.'
'We're on the descent. Remember, if you flip or stall, you're still going to stay aloft, so don't panic. Now. Keep tilting your wings down as you fly, and gently tilt your tail down, too. Easy!'
Together they flew lower, heading for the council grounds. Cristof still moved too abruptly but, engineer that he was, he'd grasped the mechanics of flying. She seldom had to repeat an instruction.
Still, landing was the most dangerous part of a flight. Taya prayed he wouldn't panic or mistime his movements. If he broke an arm or leg, their investigation would be over before it began, and he'd never trust her again.
Her own heart started to beat faster as they drew closer to the ground, and she sucked in a deep breath, forcibly calming herself. He'd be fine. He was doing fine.
'Okay, now kick your tailset up out of your way and bend your knees,' she shouted. 'Cup your wings and backbeat. Remember, you want to slow down as much as possible! You will float!'
She fell in behind him, as far back as the safety line would let her go, and started to slow down, herself.
'Open your wing slots!' she shouted, watching him. 'Knees forward! Like you're jumping on a bed!'
Had Cristof ever jumped on a bed in his life? It was hard to imagine.
She kicked her own tailset up. The winds weren't too bad. She could probably make a running landing, but she was afraid that if she tried, she'd stumble over Cristof. The only thing worse than him breaking an arm would be her breaking one. She could fly for help if he got injured, but she didn't think he'd be able to do the same for her.
'Slow down and lean backward! Lift your arms up!'
His knees hit the ground, their heavy protective pads digging furrows into the dirt as he threw his weight as far back as he could, nearly flat on his back. She breathed a sigh of relief as he skidded to a halt, buoyed by the extra ondium on his harness.
Her own landing was only a little more graceful as she let herself slide in behind him.
'Are you all right?' She locked her wings high and staggered to her feet, wincing as her knees protested. She stripped off her cap, goggles, and gloves.
Cristof's wings had fallen to the ground, and his head was slumped forward as he panted. She walked over and knelt in front of him.
'Hey.' She cupped his cold face in her hands. He was shaking and pale. 'You did it. We're here.'
He swallowed and nodded.
'Come on, exalted. Concentrate on what you're doing. Dragging your wings is bad form. Lift your arms up. Lock your wings upright.'
Moving slowly, he followed her instructions, then slipped his arms free of the armature and yanked off his cap and goggles. They fell to the ground between his legs. His eyes were wide, his pupils dilated and his glasses askew.
'Easy, now.' Taya smoothed his sweat-dampened hair and adjusted his glasses. 'That was good. That was really good.' She leaned forward and hugged him. 'Silly crow. I told you that you could fly.'
He stiffened a moment, then he grabbed her, pulling her close and clutching her as though his life depended on it.
Taya's heart lurched. She closed her eyes, pulse pounding.
In a minute he's going to let go and make some self-deprecating quip, and everything will be normal again.
Seconds passed. His breathing slowed and his trembling subsided. Taya waited for him to pull away, but instead he rested his forehead against her shoulder, still holding her.
She swallowed. Her fingers curled protectively in the thick, ragged thatch of his black hair, then ran down the sharp angles of his shoulders.
'I still feel like I'm falling,' he said at last, looking up. A gleam of morning sunlight played around the wire rim of his glasses. 'I'm afraid to let go.'
For a moment she stared into his pale eyes.
'It's all right. You're safe.' Her pulse pounded in her throat. Had anyone ever looked at her so desperately before? She'd wanted a glimpse behind his mask, and now she knew what was back there — a deep, aching loneliness. 'There's nothing to be afraid of anymore.'
'If I let go, you might fly away without me,' he said, his voice cracking.
'I won't—'
He leaned forward and kissed her, one gloved hand sliding up into her hair.
For a moment Taya stiffened. Then she closed her eyes, letting herself relax into the moment. His tentative kiss slowly grew more confident as he realized she wasn't going to pull back.
Some critical part of her pointed out that it was ridiculous to kneel in the dirt and kiss this ungracious, ill- tempered outcaste, but the rest of her felt a surge of affection for him. The uncertain, eager way his fingers touched her cheeks and the back of her neck made her heart ache.
Poor, awkward crow. So much more determined and honest than his handsome brother had ever been.
Taya laid a hand against his jaw, tasting salt on his lips, and hooked the fingers of her other hand into the harness straps across his back as he pulled her as close as their metal keels would allow. He was so tall it felt like he was folding himself around her. He slid his hand from her hair to the small of her back as their tongues touched and their breath mingled. His kiss and his body seemed to provide the only warmth to be found in the cold mountain air.
For a long minute they held each other, lost in each other's lips, breath, and touch. Then, at last, Cristof pulled back and tugged off his glasses with one hand.
'I can't see,' he said, breathlessly.
She glanced at his steamed lenses and laughed.
