"For Tya, of course," the young woman said, startled that anyone would ask. "She lied to stop the war, and the Landsman killed her for it. They wear black for her, I'd wager. Many people are grieving for her."
"Ah, yes," Evan said. "Tya. Her story might make a song itself. Have you thought of making one?"
The singer grinned. "There already is one," she said. "I heard it in Port Thayos. Here, I'll sing it for you."
Maris met Katinn of Lomarron in the abandoned field, where slender green ruffians and misshapen dirt-dragons were fast crowding out the wild wheat. The big man with the scylla's-tooth necklace came down gracefully on silvered wings, dressed all in black.
She led him inside and gave him water. "Well?" He wiped away the moisture from his lips and grinned at her roughly. "I flew in very high, and saw the circle far beneath me. Ah, you should have seen it! Forty wings by now, I'd guess. The Landsman must be drooling at the mouth. Word has gone out, too. More one-wings are coming from all over Eastern, and Val himself flew the word back to Western, so it won't be too long before others join us, too. By now there are so many that it's easy to break away for a rest or a meal without anyone being the wiser. I don't envy poor Alain starting it all. She's a strong flyer, no doubt of that. I've never known her to tire. They've got her resting in secret on Thrynel now, but she'll be back to rejoin us soon. As for me, I'm on my way to join the circle now." Maris nodded. "What about Coll's song?" "They're singing it on Lomarron, and South Arren, and Kite's Landing. I've heard it myself, several times. And it's gone to Southern and the Outer Islands as well, and to Western of course — to your Amberly, and Culhall, and Poweet. Heard that it's spreading among the singers in Stormtown."
"Good," said Maris. "Good."
"The Landsman sent Jem up to question the black flyers," said Evan's friend, repeating the news from Thossi, "and it's said that he recognized them and called on them by name, but they would not speak to him. You ought to come to the city and see them, Evan. Whenever you look up, the sky is full of flyers."
"The Landsman has ordered the flyers out of his sky, but they will not go. And why should they? As the singers say, the sky belongs to flyers!"
"I heard that a flyer arrived from Thrane, with a message from their Landsman to ours, but when he met her in the audience chamber to hear it, he turned pale with fear, for the flyer was dressed in black from head to foot. She delivered the message to him as he trembled, but before she could go, the Landsman stopped her and demanded to know why she was dressed all in black. 'I go to join the circle,' she told him calmly, 'and grieve for Tya.' And so she did, so she did."
"They say the singers in Port Thayos all dress in black these days, and some other people as well. The streets are full of merchants selling black cloth, and the dyers are very busy."
"Jem has joined the black flyers!"
"The Landsman has ordered the landsguard back from Thrane. He's afraid of what the black flyers might do, I heard, and he wants his best archers around him. The keep is full to overcrowding. It's said that the Landsman will not go outside, lest the shadow of their wings fall upon him as they fly overhead."
S'Rella arrived with the welcome news that Dorrel was less than a day behind her. Maris kept watch on the cliffs herself all that afternoon, too impatient even to wait at home with S'Rella, and at last she was rewarded by the sight of a dark figure gliding inland. She hurried into the forest to meet him.
It was a hot, still day, bad weather for flying. Maris swiped at attacking insects as she trudged through the tall grass that almost concealed the cabin. Her heart was racing with excitement as she pushed open the heavy wooden door, hanging on its hinges.
She blinked, almost blind in the dark interior after the brilliant sunshine, and then she felt his hand on her shoulder, and heard his familiar voice say her name.
"You… you came," she said. She was suddenly short of breath. "Dorrel."
"Did you doubt I would come?"
She could see now. The familiar smile, his well-remembered way of standing.
"Do you mind if we sit down?" he asked. "I'm awfully tired. It was a long flight from Western, and it did me no good to try to catch up to S'Rella."
They sat close together, on two matching chairs that must once have been very fine. But the cushions were impregnated with dust now, greenish and slightly damp with mold.
"How are you, Maris?"
"I'm… living. Ask me again in a month or so and I may have a better answer for you." She looked into his dark, concerned eyes, and then away again. "It's been a long time, hasn't it, Dorr?"
He nodded. "When you weren't at the Council, I understood… I hoped that you were doing what was best for you. I was more pleased than I can say when S'Rella came, bearing your message, your request that I come to you." He sat a little straighter in his chair. "But surely you didn't send for me just for the pleasure of seeing an old friend."
Maris drew a deep breath. "I need your help. You know about the circle? The black flyers?"
He nodded. "Rumors have already spread. And I saw them as I flew in. An impressive sight. Your doing?"
"Yes."
He shook his head. "And not an end in itself, I'll wager. What's your plan?"
"Will you help me with it? We need you."
" 'We?' You've sided with the one-wings, I suppose?" His tone was not angry, and did not condemn, but Maris was aware that he had withdrawn from her, ever so slightly.
"It's not a matter of sides, Dorr. At least, not among the flyers. It mustn't be — that way is death, the end of everything we both hold dear. Flyers — one-wing or flyer-born — must not be split up, fragmented, at the mercy of Landsmen."
"I agree. But it's too late. It was too late once Tya declared her scorn for all the laws and traditions by telling her first lie."
"Dorr," she said, her voice coaxing and reasonable, "I don't approve of what Tya did, either. She meant well; what she did was wrong, I agree, but—"
"I agree, you agree," he said, interrupting. "But. We always come down to that. Tya is dead now — we can all agree on that. She's dead, but it's not over, it's far from over. Other one-wings call her a hero, a martyr. She died for the cause of lying, for the freedom to lie. How many more lies will be told? How long will it be before the people forget their mistrust of us? Since the one-wings refused to repudiate Tya, and split away from us, there is talk among… among a few… of closing down the academies and ending the challenges, returning to the old way, to the old days when a flyer was a flyer for once and for all."
"You don't want that."
"No. No, I don't." His shoulders slumped for a moment, uncharacteristically, and he sighed. "But, Maris, it goes beyond what I want, or what you want. It's out of our hands now. Val spoke the death warrant for the one-wings when he led them out of Council and called his illegal sanction."
"Sanctions can be revoked," Maris said.
Dorrel stared at her. His eyes narrowed. "Did Val One-Wing tell you that? I don't believe him. He's playing some devious game, trying to use you to trick me."
"Dorrel!" She stood up, indignant. "Give me some credit, please! I'm not one of Val's puppets! He didn't promise to revoke the sanction, and he's not using me. I tried to convince him that it would be in everyone's best interest to act in such a way that both flyer-born and one-wings were united again. Val is stubborn and impulsive, but he's not blind. Although he wouldn't promise to revoke the sanction, I did make him see what a mistake he had made — that his sanction was useless because it was honored only by a small group, and that this division among flyers was to no one's advantage."
Dorrel looked at her thoughtfully. Then he, too, rose, and began to pace around the small, dusty room.
"Quite a feat, to get Val One-Wing to admit he was wrong," he said. "But what good does that do now?
Does he agree that the plan we followed was right?"
"No," Maris said. "I don't think it was right, either. I think you were much too harsh. Oh, I know what you thought — I know yo
u had to repudiate Tya's crime, and you thought the best way to do that was to hand her over to the Landsman for execution."
Dorrel stopped walking and frowned at her. "Maris, you know that was never my intention. I never thought Tya should die. But Val's proposal was absurd — it would have seemed that we condoned her actions."
"The Council should have insisted that Tya be given over for punishment, and then stripped Tya of her wings, forever."
"We did strip her of her wings."
"No," said Maris. "You let the Landsman do that, after he'd hanged her in them. Why do you suppose he did that? To show that he could hang a flyer and go unscathed."
Dorrel looked horrified. He crossed the room and gripped her arm. "Maris, no! He hung her in her wings?"
She nodded.
"I hadn't heard that." He sank down on his chair again as if his legs had been kicked.
"He proved his point," Maris said. "He proved that flyers could be killed as easily as anyone else. And now they will be. Now that you and Val have split flyers and one-wings into two warring camps, the Landsmen will take advantage of it. They'll demand oaths of loyalty, they'll set up rules and regulations to govern their flyers, they'll execute the rebels for treason — in time, perhaps, they'll claim the wings as their own property, to be handed out to followers who please them. Other flyers could be arrested, even executed, tomorrow. All it will take is for one more Landsman to realize he has the power — that the flyers are too fragmented now to offer any opposition." She sat down and gazed at him, almost holding her breath as she hoped for the right response.
Slowly Dorrel nodded. "What you say has a horrible ring of truth to it. But… what can I do? Only Val, and the other one-wings, can decide to rejoin us. You surely don't expect me to try to rally the other flyers in a belated sanction of our own?"
"Of course not. But it's not only up to Val — it can't be. There are two sides, and both of you must make some gesture of reconciliation."
"And what might that gesture be?"
Maris leaned forward. "Join the black flyers," she said. "Mourn Tya. Join the others. When word goes out that Dorrel of Laus has joined the one-wings in mourning, others will follow."
"Mourn?" He frowned. "You want me to dress in black and fly in a circle?" His voice was suspicious.
"And what else? What else am I to join your black flyers in? Is it your plan to enforce the sanction against Thayos by keeping all the flyers in formation above it?"
"No. Not a sanction. They don't stop any flyers who bring a message to or from Thayos, and if you, or any of your followers, had to leave the circle, no one would stop you. Just make the gesture."
"This is more than a gesture, and more than mourning. I'm certain of it," Dorrel said. "Maris, be honest with me. We have known each other for a very long time. For the love I still bear for you I would do much. But I can't go against what I believe, and I won't be tricked. Please don't play one of Val One-Wing's games and try to use me. I think you owe me honesty."
Maris looked steadily back into his eyes, but she felt a pang of guilt. She was trying to use him — he was an important part of her plan, and because of what they had once meant to each other she had felt certain he would not let her down. But she did not mean to deceive him.
She said quietly, "I've always thought of you as my friend, Dorr, even when we were opposed. But I'm not asking you to do this for me just out of friendship. It's more important than that. I think it is equally important to you that this rift between the one-wings and the flyer-born be healed."
"Tell me the whole truth, then. Tell me what you want me to do, and why."
"I want you to join the black flyers, to prove that the one-wings do not fly alone. I want to bring flyers and one-wings together again, to show the world that they can still act as one."
"You think that if Val One-Wing and I fly together we will forget all our differences?"
Maris smiled ruefully. "Perhaps once, long ago, I was that naive. No more. I hope that the one-wings and the flyer-born will act together."
"How? In what way beyond this odd mourning ceremony?"
"The black flyers carry no weapons, make no threats, and do not even land on Thayos," she said. "They are mourners, nothing more. But their presence makes the Landsman of Thayos very nervous. He does not understand. Already he is so frightened he has called his landsguard from Thrane — and therefore the black flyers have succeeded where Tya failed, and ended the war."
"But surely the Landsman will get over his fear. And the black flyers cannot circle Thayos forever."
"The Landsman here is an impetuous, bloody-minded, and fearful man," Maris said. "The violent always suspect others of violence. And it is not his way to wait for someone else to act. I think he will do something before long. I think he will give the flyers cause to act."
Dorrel frowned. "By doing what? Shooting a flight of arrows to knock us from the sky?"
" 'Us'?"
Dorrel shook his head, but he was smiling. "It could be dangerous, Maris. Trying to provoke him to action…"
His smiled heartened her. "The black flyers do nothing but fly. If Port Thayos grows agitated in their shadows, that is the work of the Landsman and his subjects."
"Especially the singers and the healers — we know what troublemakers they can be! I'll do as you ask, Maris. It will make a good story to tell my grandchildren, when they come along. I won't have my wings much longer now anyway, with Jan getting to be such a good flyer."
"Oh, Dorr!"
He held up one hand. "I will wear black as a sign of grief for Tya," he said carefully. "And I will join the great circle that flies to mourn her. But I will do nothing that might be seen as condoning her crime, or expressing a sanction against Thayos for her death." He stood up and stretched. "Of course, if anything should happen, if the Landsman should presume to exceed his powers and threaten the flyers, why then, we should all, one-wings and flyer-born, have to act together."
Maris also stood. She was smiling. "I knew you would see it that way," she said.
She wrapped her arms around him and pulled him to her in an affectionate hug. Then Dorrel lifted her face and kissed her, perhaps just for old times' sake, but for a moment it was as if all the years that lay between them had never been, and they were youths again, and lovers, and the sky was theirs from horizon to horizon, and all that lay beneath it.
But the kiss ended, and they stood apart again: old friends linked by memories and faint regrets.
"Go safely, Dorr," said Maris. "Come back soon."
Returning from the sea cliffs, where she had seen Dorrel launch himself for Laus, Maris felt full of hope.
There was sadness, too, beneath it — the old familiar longing had swept over her again as she helped Dorrel unfold his wings, and watched him mount the warm blue sky.
But the pain was a little less this time. Although she would have given anything to fly with Dorrel again, she had other things to think about now, and it was not so difficult to pull her hopeless thoughts away from the sky and think of more practical matters. Dorrel had promised to return soon, with more followers, and Maris enjoyed the vision of an even vaster circle of black flyers.
She was shocked out of her reverie as she approached Evan's house, by the sound of a shriek from within.
She ran the last few steps and threw the door open. She saw at once that Bari was crying, Evan trying in vain to comfort her. Standing a little apart was S'Rella with a boy from Thossi.
"What's wrong?" Maris cried, suspecting the worst.
At her voice, Bari turned and ran to her aunt, weeping. "My father, they took my father, make them, please make them…"
Maris embraced the weeping child and stroked her hair absently. "What's happened to Coll?"
"Coll has been arrested and taken to the keep," Evan said. "The Landsman has seized a half-dozen other singers as well — everyone known to have performed Coll's song about Tya. He means to try them for treason."
Maris contin
ued to hold Bari tightly. "There, there," she said. "Shh, shh, Bari."
"There was a riot in Port Thayos," said the boy from Thossi. "When they came to the Moonfish Inn to take Lanya the singer, the landsguard met with customers who tried to defend her. They beat the defenders off with clubs. No one was killed."
Maris listened numbly, trying to absorb it, trying to think.
"I'll fly to Val," S'Rella said. "I'll spread the word among the black flyers — they'll all come. The Landsman will have to release Coll!"
"No," said Maris. She still hugged Bari, and the child's sobbing had ceased. "No, Coll is a land-bound, a singer. He has no claim upon the flyers — they would not rally together to defend him."
"But he's your brother!"
"That makes no difference."
"We have to do something," S'Rella insisted.
"We will. We had hoped to provoke the Landsman, but to make him strike at the flyers, not the land-bound. But now that it has happened… Coll and I discussed this possibility." She raised Bari's face gently with a finger beneath her chin, and wiped away her tears. "Bari, you have to go away now."
"No! I want my father! I won't leave without him!"
"Bari, listen to me. You must leave before the Landsman catches you. Your father wouldn't want that."
"I don't care," Bari said stubbornly. "I don't care if the Landsman catches me! I want to be with my father!"
"Don't you want to fly?" Maris asked.
"To fly?" Bari's face suddenly lit up with wonder.
"S'Rella here will let you fly with her over the ocean," Maris said, "if you're big enough not to be afraid."
She looked up at S'Rella. "You can take her, can't you?"
S'Rella nodded. "She's light enough. Val has people on Thrynel. It'll be an easy flight."
"Are you big enough?" Maris asked. "Or would you be afraid?"
"I'm not scared," Bari said fiercely, her pride wounded. "My father used to fly, you know."
"I know," Maris said, smiling. She remembered Coll's terror of flight, and hoped that Bari hadn't inherited that particular trait.
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