Windhaven - Страница 57

He grinned. “I’m not mad yet, big sister. But if the Landsman likes good singing, a visit might be worthwhile. I might learn something. Just keep Bari safe for me.”

Two days later a wineseller brought Evan a patient: a huge, shaggy black dog, one of two such monstrous hounds that pulled his wooden cart from village to village. A hooded torturer had mauled the animal and now it lay among the wineskins, crusted with blood and filth.

Evan could do nothing to save the beast, but for his efforts he was offered a skin of sour red wine. “They tried that traitor flyer,” the wineseller reported as they drank together by the fire. “She’s to hang.”

“When?” Maris asked.

“Who’s to say? Flyers are everywhere, and the Landsman’s afraid of them, I think. She’s locked up now in his keep. Think he’s waiting to see what those flyers do. If it was me, I’d kill her and have done with it. But I wasn’t born Landsman.”

Maris stood in the doorway when he departed, watching the man and the surviving dog straining together in the traces. Evan came up behind her and put his arms around her. “How do you feel?”

“Confused,” Maris said, without turning. “And afraid. Your Landsman has challenged the flyers directly. Do you realize how serious that is, Evan? They have to do something—they can’t let this pass.” She touched his hand. “I wonder what they’re saying on the Eyrie tonight? I know I can’t let myself be drawn into flyer affairs, but it’s hard…”

“They are your friends,” Evan said. “Your concern is natural.”

“My concern will bring me more pain,” Maris said. “Still…” She shook her head and turned to face him, still within the circle of his arms. “It makes me realize how small my own problems are,” she said. “I wouldn’t want to trade places with Tya tonight, though she’s still a flyer and I’m not.”

“Good,” Evan said. He kissed her lightly. “For it’s you I want here by my side, not Tya.”

Maris smiled at him, and together they went inside.

They came in the middle of the night, four strangers dressed as fisherfolk, in heavy boots and sweaters and dark caps trimmed with seacat fur, and they brought the strong, salt smell of the sea with them. Three of them wore long bone knives, and had eyes the color of ice on a winter lake. The fourth one spoke. “You don’t remember me,” he said, “but we’ve met before, Maris. I’m Arrilan, of the Broken Ring.”

Maris studied him, remembering a pretty youth she had met once or twice. Beneath three days’ growth of blond beard, his face was unrecognizable, but his piercing blue eyes seemed familiar. “I believe you are,” she said. “You’re a long way from home, flyer. Where are your wings? And your manners?”

Arrilan smiled a humorless smile. “My manners? Forgive my rudeness, but I come in haste, and at considerable risk. We made the crossing from Thrynel to see you, and the seas were choppy and dangerous for a boat as small as ours. When this old man tried to send us away, I ran out of patience.”

“If you call Evan an old man again, I’m going to run out of patience,” Maris said coldly. “Why are you here? Why didn’t you fly in?”

“My wings are safe on Thrynel. It was thought best to send someone to you in secret, someone whose face is not known on Thayos. Being from the Embers, and new among the flyers, I was chosen. My parents were fisher-folk, and I was raised to the life.” He removed his cap, shook out his fine blond hair. “May we sit?” he asked. “We have important business to discuss.”

“Evan?” Maris asked.

“Sit,” Evan said. “I will make tea.”

“Ah.” Arrilan smiled. “That would be most welcome. The seas are cold. I’m sorry if I spoke too harshly. These are hard times.”

“Yes,” Evan agreed. He went outside to draw water for the kettle.

“Why are you here?” Maris asked when Arrilan and his three silent companions were seated. “What’s all this about?”

“I was sent to bring you out of here. You can hardly take ship from Port Thayos, you know. You’d not be permitted to leave. We have a small fishing boat hidden not far from here. It will be safe. If the landsguard seize us, we are simple fisherfolk from Thrynel blown northeast by a storm.”

“My escape seems well-planned,” Maris said. “A pity no one thought to consult me about it.” She gazed at the disguised flyer, frowning. “Whose idea was this? Who sent you?”

“Val One-Wing.”

Maris smiled. “Of course. Who else? But why does Val want me taken from Thayos?”

“For your own safety,” Arrilan said. “As an ex-flyer living here, helpless, your life might be in danger.”

“I’m no threat to the Landsman,” Maris said. “He’d have no cause to—”

The young flyer shook his head vehemently. “Not the Landsman. The people. Don’t you know what’s going on?”

“It seems I don’t,” Maris said. “Perhaps you should tell me.”

“News of Tya’s arrest has spread all over Windhaven, even to Artellia and the Embers. Many of the land-bound have begun muttering their distrust of flyers. Even the Landsmen.” He flushed. “The Landsman of the Broken Ring summoned me as soon as she heard, and demanded to know if I had ever lied or twisted a message. I was forced to swear my loyalty to her. Even as she questioned me, it was obvious she doubted my word. And she threatened me! She threatened me with imprisonment, as if she could, as if she had the right—” He broke off, and seemed physically to swallow his anger.

“I am a one-wing, of course,” he resumed. “All of us are suspect now, but it is worst for the one-wings. S’wena of Deeth was set upon by thugs and beaten after speaking in Tya’s defense in a tavern argument. Others have been called names, shunned, even spat upon in Eastern towns. Jem, who is as traditional as can be, was hit with a rock yesterday on Thrane. And Katinn’s house on Lomarron was fired while he was away.”

“I had no idea it was so bad,” said Maris.

“Yes,” said Arrilan. “And growing worse. The fever burns hottest of all here on Thayos. Val thinks the mob will come for you soon, so we were sent to bring you to safety.”

Evan had returned and was preparing the tea. “Maybe you should go,” he said to Maris, concern in his voice. “I hate to think of you in danger. In time, this will blow over, and you can return, or I could come to you.”

Maris shook her head. “I don’t think I’m in any danger. Perhaps, if I paraded up and down the streets of Port Thayos, crying out my concern for Tya… but here in the woods I’m a harmless old ex-flyer, who has done nothing to rouse anyone’s anger.”

“Mobs aren’t reasonable,” Arrilan said. “You don’t understand—you must come with us, for your safety.”

“How kind of Val, to be so concerned with my safety,” Maris said, staring at Arrilan. “And how unusual. At a time like this, Val must have a lot on his mind. I really can’t imagine him taking the time and effort to devise an elaborate scheme to rescue poor old Maris, who hardly needs rescuing. If Val truly sent you to rescue me, it must be because he’s thought of some way I can be of use to him.”

Arrilan was plainly startled. “He—you’re mistaken. He’s very much concerned for your safety. He—”

“And what else is he concerned with? You might as well tell me what you really want with me.”

Arrilan smiled ruefully. “Val said you’d see through the story,” he said. He sounded admiring. “I would have told you anyway, once we had you safely away from here. Val has called a flyers’ Council.”

Maris nodded. “Where?”

“On South Arren. It’s close, but removed from the immediate hostilities, and Val has friends there. It will take a month or more for the flyers to assemble, but we have time. The Landsman is afraid, and he’ll be too cautious to move until he sees what comes of the Council.”

“What does Val intend?”

“What else? He will ask for a sanction against Thayos, to be in effect until Tya is freed. No flyer will land here, or on any other island that trades with Thayos. This rock will be isolated from the world. The Landsman will give in or be destroyed.”

“If Val has his way. The one-wings are still a minority, and Tya is no innocent victim,” Maris pointed out.

“Tya is a flyer,” Arrilan said, gratefully taking the mug of tea Evan handed him. “Val is counting on flyer loyalty. One-wing or no, she is a flyer, and we can’t abandon her.”

“I wonder,” said Maris.

“Oh, there will be a fight, of course. We suspect Corm and some others may try to use this incident to discredit all one-wings and close the academies.” He smiled over the rim of his mug. “You haven’t helped, you know. Val said you picked the worst possible time to fall.”

“I wasn’t given any choice,” Maris said. “But you still haven’t said why you came for me.”

“Val wants you to preside.”

“What?”

“It’s traditional to have a retired flyer conduct the Council, you know that. Val thinks that you would be the best choice. You’re widely known and widely respected, among one-wings and flyer-born both, and we’d have no trouble getting you accepted. Any other one-wing will be rejected. And we need someone we can count on, not some crusty old relic who wants everything like it used to be. Val thinks it can make a big difference.”

“It can,” said Maris, remembering the pivotal role that Jamis the Senior had played in the Council that Corm had called. “But Val will have to find someone else. I’m through with flying and with flyers’ Councils. I want to be left in peace.”