Maris smiled. “You don’t need any ale,” she said primly as she walked to his bedside and kissed him lightly on the brow.
S’Rella hung back by the door, however. When he saw that, Garth’s face turned serious. “Ah, S’Rella,” he said, “don’t be frightened. I’m not angry with you.”
She came forward to stand by Maris. “You’re not?”
“No,” Garth said firmly. “Riesa, bring them seats.” His sister did as he asked, and when they were seated, Garth resumed. “Oh, I was furious when you challenged me—hurt, too—I can’t deny that.”
“I’m sorry,” S’Rella blurted. “I didn’t want to hurt you. I don’t hate you—what I said that night at the lodge.”
He waved her quiet. “I know that. And you needn’t be sorry. The water was terribly cold out there, but maybe it woke me up a bit, and I’ve had all afternoon to lie here and think. I’ve been a fool, and I’m lucky I have the breath to say so. I did wrong to keep it secret, the way that I was feeling, and you did right to name me when you knew.” He shook his head. “I couldn’t accept being land-bound, you know. I love the flying too much, all my friends, the travel. But it’s over, my little swim proved that, the only question is whether I’m to be a live land-bound or a drowned flyer at the end of it all. Before today, I’d always managed to shrug off the pain, get where I was going. But this morning—ah, it was miserable, shooting pains in my arms and legs. But I don’t want to talk about that. Bad enough it happened.” He reached across and took S’Rella by the hand. “What I mean to say, S’Rella, is that I can’t compete tomorrow, and I wouldn’t if I could. Riesa and the sea have brought me to my senses. The wings are yours.”
S’Rella could hardly believe him. She stared at him wide-eyed, and a tremulous smile broke across her face.
“What will you do, Garth?” Maris asked.
He grimaced. “That depends on the healers,” he said. “Seems to me I have three choices. Maybe I’ll be a corpse, and maybe I’ll be a cripple, but if I can find a healer who knows what he’s about, I thought I might try my hand at trade. I’ve got enough iron put aside to buy myself a ship, and I could travel that way, see other islands—though I’m half scared out of my wits at the idea of traveling by sea.” He chuckled. “You and Dorr used to kid me about being a trader. You remember, Maris? Said I’d trade my wings if the deal was good enough, just because I liked to swap a little now and again. Well, some trader I turned out to be. Here S’Rella gets my wings and doesn’t give me anything.” He laughed, and Maris found herself joining him.
They talked for over an hour, about traders and sailors and finally flyers, relaxing as they laughed at Garth’s jokes and exchanged gossip. “Corm is livid about your friend Val,” Garth said at one point, “and I can’t say I blame him. He’s a good enough flyer that he never considered that he might lose his wings, and here it seems he’s lost them, and to One-Wing of all people. Did you have anything to do with that, Maris?”
She shook her head. “Hardly. All Val’s idea. He’ll never admit it, but I think he wanted to beat a flyer of the top rank to make them forget about Ari. The fact that Corm’s wife sits among the judges just added an extra flair to the feat, and of course it gave him a convenient excuse if he lost. He could blame a defeat on flyer prejudice.”
Garth nodded and made a rude joke about Corm, then turned to his sister. “Riesa, why don’t you show S’Rella our house?”
Riesa took the hint. “Yes, do come see,” she said. S’Rella followed her from the room.
“She’s nice,” Garth said when they were gone, “and she does remind me an awful lot of you, Maris. Do you remember when we first met?”
Maris smiled at him. “I remember. It was my first flight to the Eyrie and there was a party that night.”
“Raven was there too. That was where he did his trick.”
“I’ve never forgotten it,” Maris said.
“Did you teach it to One-Wing?”
“No.”
Garth laughed. “Everyone is certain you did. We all remember how impressed you were by Raven. Coll even made a song about him, didn’t he?”
Maris smiled. “Yes.”
Garth started to say something else, then thought better of it. For a long moment the room was filled with silence, and the smile slowly faded on Garth’s face.
He began to cry, fighting it and losing; he reached out his big hands for her, and Maris came and sat on the edge of the bed and hugged him, and ran her hands across his brow. “I knew—I didn’t want S’Rella to see me—ah, Maris, it’s so damned rotten, so damned—”
“Oh, Garth,” she whispered, kissing him lightly and fighting to hold back her own tears. She felt so helpless. Briefly she thought of what it would be like if she were in Garth’s place. She trembled and pushed the thought away and hugged him again all the harder.
“Come and see me,” he said. “I—you know how—when you don’t fly, you can’t go to the Eyrie—you know—bad enough to lose your freedom, and the wind—but I don’t want to lose you too, and my other friends, just because—oh, damn, damn these tears—visit me, Maris, promise, promise.”
“I promise, Garth,” she said, trying to keep her voice light. “Unless you gain so much weight that I can’t stand to look at you.”
Beneath his tears, he laughed. “Ah,” he said. “Here—and just when I thought I could get fat in peace. You—”
Footsteps sounded outside, Riesa and S’Rella returning, and Garth quickly used the blanket to dry his tears. “Go,” he said, smiling again, “go, I’m tired, you’ve exhausted me. But come back tomorrow when it’s all over and tell me how the games went.”
Maris nodded. And S’Rella came up to her side and bent to give Garth a quick, shy kiss before they left.
They walked the half-mile back to the village slowly, talking as they went and savoring the cool wind that moved through the night. They spoke of Garth, and a little bit of Val, and S’Rella mentioned the wings—her wings—with wonder in her voice. “I’m a flyer,” she said happily. “It’s really true.”
But it was not that simple.
Sena was waiting for them inside their cabin, sitting on the edge of a bed and looking impatient. She rose when they entered. “Where have you been?”
“We went to see how Garth is,” Maris answered. “Is anything wrong?”
“I don’t know. We have been summoned up to the lodge house by the judges.” She gave S’Rella a meaningful look with her good eye. “All three of us, and we’re late.”
They left at once. On the way, Maris told Sena what Garth had said about giving up the wings, but the old teacher did not seem pleased. “Well, we shall see about that,” she said. “I would not go flying off with them just yet.
The flyers were not partying tonight. The main room of the lodge was sparsely populated, only a half-dozen Western flyers Maris knew vaguely sitting and drinking, and the atmosphere was anything but festive. One of them stood up when Maris and the others entered. “In the back room,” he said.
The five judges were squabbling around a circular table, but they broke off in mid-argument when the door opened. Shalli stood up. “Maris, Sena, S’Rella, do come in,” she said. “And close the door.”
They took seats around the table, and Shalli folded her hands neatly in front of her as she resumed. “We summoned you because we have a dispute, and it involves young S’Rella here, and you have a right to state your views. Garth has sent word that he will not fly tomorrow—”
“We know,” Maris broke in. “We just came from him.”
“Good,” Shalli said. “Then perhaps you understand our problem. We must decide what to do with the wings.”