“They’re not getting along with me,” he replied. “Not since I got sick of them making me look stupid so they looked better, anyway,” he added quietly.
Her eyebrows rose. “So that’s why. I thought it was something else.”
He frowned at her, but her attention had shifted elsewhere. Her eyes flicked back to him, then she nodded meaningfully and looked away again. Following her gaze, he saw a butterfly-faced girl and knew instantly that it was Drilli. No other girl walked the way she did, he mused. Confident, but not showy. Her gracefulness was completely unselfconscious.
Looking at his mother again, he considered her insinuation that Drilli was the reason for his cousins’ taunting. She was probably right. They were jealous. They didn’t need to be. Drilli liked him and helped him with his inventions, but he had no idea if she thought he was anything more than a friend.
Except, well, she had lured him into asking her to be his partner tonight, and girls didn’t do that unless they were interested in being more than friends with a boy.
The last rays of the sun had disappeared now. As Drilli and her family took their places the threads of music from instruments about the circle began to synchronize. All chatter ended. The Speaker of another tribe stepped into the circle, dressed in the traditional bright garb of the Patternmaker. He would direct the festivities, choose the order of flight patterns, and award prizes.
“For centuries since Huan declared her work complete and that we were ready to govern ourselves, we have come together every winter and summer to celebrate and give thanks,” he called. “We hone our skills and test our abilities so that she will look upon us and be proud. In spring we celebrate the oldest and youngest of us. In summer we rejoice in the partnership of man and woman, be they newly matched or familiar companions.” He raised his arms. “So let the couples begin the trei-trei!”
As musicians began a lively old tune, Tryss’s parents exchanged a smile and took off their masks. They ran forward, leapt into the air and joined the other couples wheeling in the traditional moves of the pattern. Turning away, Tryss looked toward Drilli’s tribe. She was watching him expectantly.
He started toward her, but paused as two familiar figures approached her from either side. Her smile turned to a frown as Ziss grabbed her wrist.
Her words were lost in the hubbub of voices around her, but the shake of her head made her meaning clear. Ziss scowled, but didn’t let her go. She turned abruptly to stare at Trinn, standing on her other side, and her expression became angry. She shook off Ziss’s hand, then stalked away.
Tryss noted that her father was watching her closely. His frown deepened as she joined Tryss.
“Tryss,” she said. “You weren’t going to leave me to fend off your cousins by myself, were you?”
He smiled. “You’re quite capable of defending yourself, Drilli.”
“It’s nice that you think so, but it would have been much more flattering if you had gallantly come to my rescue,” she huffed.
“Then give me enough time to get there before dealing with them yourself,” he retorted.
The music changed and she looked up at the fliers above, her eyes shining with eagerness.
“I would be honored if you would fly with me,” he said, the formal words sounding awkward.
She grinned, then took off her mask. He removed his and laid it next to hers on the ground. As she turned to face the circle, Tryss glanced back at his cousins. Both glowered at him.
Then he and Drilli were running. They moved apart and sprang into the air. He felt the heat of a fire add to the lift beneath his wings. It carried him upward, Drilli at his side. In a moment they had found a place among the couples, following the simple movements of an uncomplicated public pattern.
He had flown patterns many times before, but not like this. In early years he had flown with his mother, carefully following her every move. Later, with younger cousins, he had needed to direct them. Drilli did not direct or follow. He could read her slightest change of posture and know what she wanted or expected to do, and she responded to him the same way. It was both exciting and calming, liberating and hypnotic.
They stayed aloft for pattern after pattern, focused only on each other whether the music was lively or slow. He found he could manage complex patterns he had never bothered to attempt before. Finally the music ended and they descended to the ground to watch as hoops and poles were set up for the acrobatic tests. Soon Siyee were swooping about, gaining cheers from those watching.
During one of the louder rounds of cheering, Drilli leaned close.
“Let’s slip away,” she whispered.
He looked at her in surprise. Taking his hand, she slowly led the way through the crowd toward the dark forest at the edge of the Open. They stopped now and then, sometimes to watch, once to talk to an old friend, then, after a long, careful examination of all around them, she bent close again.
“You walk uphill into the forest for fifty steps then stop and wait. I’ll count to a hundred then follow.”
He nodded. Glancing around to make sure nobody was watching, he waited until one of the acrobats started an intricate move before striding away into the forest. It was dark in the trees. The immense trunks had a sinister presence that he had never noticed during the day. He could not guess why: the Siyee had lived here without doing them harm for nearly three centuries.
Realizing he had lost count of his steps, he stopped. After a while he heard soft movement. As a feminine shadow appeared and he recognized Drilli’s walk he sighed with relief.
“I think your cousins saw us leave,” she told him.
He turned and cursed as
“I bet they’ve been watching us the whole night.”
“Fools,” she murmured. “Anyone who thinks they can win a girl over by being cruel to others is stupid. Follow me. Try not to make any noise.”
They crept through the forest. In the dark it was impossible to avoid stepping on twigs or dry leaves, but the ground had been cleared and smoothed into paths by many years of traffic. Tryss concentrated on following her and on their pursuit, so when she stopped it took a moment to realize where they were.
At the end of the path was a large bower. The walls glowed from a light within.
“That’s the Speakers’ Bower!” he exclaimed. “We’re not supposed to come here.”
“Shhh!” She put a finger to her lips and looked over his shoulder. “They won’t dare follow us. And nobody will be at the bower. They’re all at the festival.”
“Then why’s there light inside?”
“I don’t know. One of the Speakers probably left a lantern burning, to guide—”
Tryss froze as three figures appeared from the trees to one side and strode toward the bower. The newcomers did not look in their direction, to his relief, but marched up to the bower and went inside. The light within threw their distorted shadows up against the walls.
Drilli was breathing faster now. She turned to look in the direction his cousins had been approaching from, then abruptly crept closer to the bower and crouched down at the base of one of the huge old trees.
“If your cousins find us they’ll turn us in,” she told him. “Better we hide here and risk discovery by the Speakers.”
She looked toward the bower again. Voices could be heard now.
“We were attacked,” a man said darkly. “But not by men. By birds.”
“Birds?” Tryss recognized Speaker Sirri’s voice.
“Yes. There were maybe twenty of them. They came out of the treetops as one.”
“What kind of birds?”
“None I’ve ever seen before. Like a large black kiri.”
“
“Truly?”
“Yes.”
“What harm did they do?”
“They tore at us with beaks and claws. We all have scratches,” the first visitor said grimly. “Niril lost an eye, Liriss lost both. Half of us have torn wing membranes, and both Virri and Dillir may never fly again.”
Silence followed this.
“This is terrible,” Sirri replied with genuine distress. “What did you do then? How did you escape
