Windhaven - Страница 26

Sena regarded him sourly with her good eye. “Know a lot about sailing, do you?”

“Yes, ma’am. My brother Rac captains a trading ship, one of the big three-masters, and my other brother is a sailor too, though he’s only a hand on a channel ferry. I thought that I—well, before I came to Woodwings, I thought I’d be a sailor too. It’s about the closest thing there is to flying.”

Sena shuddered. “Like flying without control, like flying with weights dragging you into the sea, like flying blind, yes, that’s sailing.”

She’d been speaking loud enough for everyone to hear, and there was widespread laughter around the room. Kerr blushed and concentrated on his bowl.

Maris looked at Sena with sympathy, trying not to laugh for Kerr’s sake. Sena, although grounded for years, had never lost the flyer’s almost superstitious fear of traveling by sea.

“How long will it take?” Maris asked.

“Oh, they say, winds willing, three days, with a stop in Stormtown. What does it matter? Either we’ll get there, or we’ll all drown.” The teacher looked at Maris. “You fly to Skulny today?”

“Yes.”

“Good,” Sena said, reaching across to take Maris by the arm. “Then everyone need not drown. We have two sets of wings we’ll be needing in the competition. It would be insane to take them in the boat with us—”

“Ship,” Kerr interrupted.

Sena looked at him. “Boat or ship, it would be insane. We might as well put them to use. Will you take two of the students with you? The long flight should be good practice.”

Maris looked down the table and saw how everyone within hearing distance had suddenly become still. No spoons were raised, no jaws moved as they waited for her answer.

“That’s a fine idea,” Maris said, smiling. “I’ll take S’Rella with me, and—” She hesitated, trying to decide who to choose.

Two tables down, Val set down his spoon and rose. “I’ll go,” he said.

Maris’ eyes met his across the room. “S’Rella and Sher or Leya,” she said stubbornly. “They need that kind of flight the most.”

“I’ll stay with Val, then,” S’Rella said quietly.

“And I’d rather go with Leya,” Sher added.

“It will be S’Rella and Val,” Sena said irritably, “and I’ll hear no more about it. If the rest of us die at sea, they have the best chance of becoming flyers and honoring our memory.” She pushed aside her porridge bowl and turned on the bench. “Now I must go see our patron the Landsman and be obsequious to her for a while. I will see you again before you leave for Skulny.”

Maris scarcely heard her; her eyes were still locked with Val’s. He smiled at her thinly, then spun and followed Sena from the room. S’Rella left soon after.

Kerr was talking to her, Maris suddenly realized. She shook herself back to attention and smiled at him. “Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”

“It isn’t so dangerous,” he said quietly. “Not just to sail from here to Skulny. There’s only a few miles of open ocean, when the ship crosses from Little Shotan to Skulny. Mostly we’ll hug the shores of the Shotans, with land never out of sight. And the ships aren’t as fragile as she thinks. I know about ships.”

“I’m sure you do, Kerr,” Maris said. “Sena is just thinking like a flyer. After the freedom of having your own wings, it’s a hard thing to travel by sea and trust your life to those handling the sails and the tiller.”

Kerr chewed his lip. “I guess I see,” he said, without conviction. “But if the flyers all think that, they don’t know much. It’s not as dangerous as she says.” Satisfied, he went back to his breakfast.

Maris grew thoughtful as she ate. He was right, she realized with a sense of vague unease; flyers were often too limited in the ways they thought, judging everything from their own perspective. But the idea that Val’s sweeping condemnation of them might have some justice to it disturbed her more than she was willing to admit.

Afterward she went to look for S’Rella and Val. They were not in their rooms, nor in any of the other obvious places, and no one seemed to know where they had gone after leaving the common room. Maris wandered through the dark, cool corridors until she was thoroughly lost, making her choice of turning according to whether or not there were torches for her to light in the wallsockets.

She was thinking of giving out a cry for help, and laughing at herself for being so helpless within the enclosure of walls, when she heard, very faintly, the sound of voices, and pressed on. One more turn to the right and she found them, together, sitting close in a small cul-de-sac with a window overlooking the sea. There was something in the way they leaned near to each other that spoke of intimacy, and it changed Maris’ mood to one of annoyance.

“I’ve been looking all over for you,” Maris said abruptly.

S’Rella half-turned away from Val and stood up. “What is it?” she asked eagerly.

“We’re flying to Skulny, you know,” Maris said. “Can you be ready to leave in an hour? Anything you wanted to take with you, you can pack up and give to Sena.”

“I can be ready to leave in a minute,” S’Rella said, and her smile put a damper on Maris’ pique. “I was so happy when you named me, Maris. You don’t know what this means to me.” Her face alight, she leaped forward and embraced Maris.

Maris hugged her back. “I think I do,” she said. “Now, go off and get ready.”

S’Rella bid a brief goodbye to Val and then was off. Maris stood watching her go, then turned back to him, and hesitated.

Val was still looking down the tunnel where S’Rella had disappeared, smiling, but there was something about him—the smile was real, Maris realized. That was it. He was smiling with something like fondness, and it gave him a softer, more human look than she had ever seen him wear.

Then his eyes snapped back to her, and the smile changed, subtly, a small twist at the corners, and now he was smiling for Maris and the smile was full of derision and hostility. “I haven’t thanked you for naming me,” he said. “I was so happy when you said I could fly with you.”

“Val,” Maris said wearily, “we may not like each other, but we have a long flight to make together. You could at least try to be civil. Don’t mock me. Are you going to pack?”

“I’ve never unpacked,” he said. “I’ll give my bag to Sena, and wear my knife. It’s the only thing that matters. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready.” He hesitated. “And I won’t bother you on Skulny. When we land, I’ll find my own quarters. Fair enough?”

“Val,” Maris started. But he had turned away and was staring through the cell’s small window at the moving, cloudy sky, his face cold and closed.

Sena brought the others out to the launching cliff to watch Maris, S’Rella, and Val depart. All of them were in the highest of spirits, laughing and joking, vying with each other for the privilege of helping Maris and S’Rella with their wings. There was a mood of wild and restless gaiety among them that was infectious; Maris felt her own spirits rise, and for the first time she was eager for the competitions.

“Let them be, let them be!” Sena cried, laughing. “They certainly can’t fly with the lot of you hanging on their wings!”

“Wish they could,” mumbled Kerr. He pushed at his nose, which had turned bright red in the wind.

“You’ll have your chance,” S’Rella said, sounding defensive.

“No one grudges you this,” Leya said quickly.

“You’re the best of us,” Sher added.

“Save it,” Sena said, putting one arm around Leya, the other around Sher. “Go now. We’ll wave goodbye and meet you again on Skulny.”

Maris turned to S’Rella and saw that the younger woman was watching her intently, her whole body tensed and ready for Maris’ slightest signal. She remembered her own earliest flights, when she had still not quite believed that she could have wings of her own, and she touched S’Rella’s shoulder and spoke to her kindly.

“We’ll all stay close together and take it easy,” she said. “The stunts are for the competitions—right now, we’ll concentrate on steady flying. This will be a long trip for you, I know, but don’t worry about it—you’ve got enough stamina for twice the distance. Just relax and trust yourself. I’ll be there watching out for you, but you won’t really need me.”

“Thank you,” S’Rella said. “I’ll do my best.”

Maris nodded and signaled, and Damen and Liane came out and unfolded her wings for her, strut by strut, pulling the bright silver fabric taut until her wings were spread twenty feet. Then she was off, leaping away from the cliff to a chorus of farewells and good wishes, into the cool, steady, faintly rain-scented flow of the wind. She circled and watched S’Rella’s takeoff, trying to judge it as if S’Rella were in competition.

No doubt about it, S’Rella had improved greatly recently. The clumsiness was gone, and she did not hesitate at the edge, but sprang smoothly clear of the fortress and, having judged the wind nicely, began to rise almost at once.

“I don’t believe your wings are of wood at all!” Maris called to her.

Then both of them swung through the sky in impatient, widening circles, waiting for Val.

He had been leaning against the door through all of the joking and the preparations, standing outside it all, his face blank and guarded. He was winged already, having strapped them on without help. Now he walked calmly through the group of students and would-be flyers, and stood perched on the brink of the precipice, his feet half-over the edge. Painstakingly he unfolded the first three struts, but he did not lock them into place.