Taking Flight

“I … I wanted to see the Great Highway,” Kelder replied, horribly aware that his answer sounded stupid.

She turned to look down at the road. “Well, there it is,” she said. “It’s not really much to look at, around here.” She turned back and smiled at him. “Of course, this is one of the dull parts,” she said. “The best parts are at the ends.”

That was a fascinating bit of information, and Kelder was very pleased to have it. “You have traveled on the Highway?” he asked. The Ethsharitic words came to his tongue with difficulty; he feared that if the conversation went on he would soon be lost.

Irith grinned at him. “Oh, I’ve been back and forth along it a hundred times!” she said. “What about you?”

“I came here last night,” he admitted. “From Shulara.”

“Oh.” She glanced southward. “They don’t speak Ethsharitic there, do they?”

“No,” Kelder admitted.

“I don’t think I remember how to speak Shularan,” she said, apologetically. “Would you rather speak Trader’s Tongue?”

“Ah … it might be easier, yes,” Kelder agreed, relieved. Trader’s Tongue shared rather more vocabulary with Shularan than did Ethsharitic, and the grammar came more easily. Besides, Tikri Tikri’s son had been a more knowledgeable and congenial teacher than Luralla the Inquisitive.

Irith nodded. “All right,” she said, in Trader’s Tongue. “You came here cross-country all by yourself?”

Kelder needed a minute to switch languages; then he replied, “Well, there aren’t any roads in Shulara, not really.” Trader’s Tongue was much easier, once he had made the adjustment.

“Oh, I know,” she said. “I was there once, a long time ago. It’s pretty, but not very exciting.” She shrugged, then looked back up into his eyes. “Is that why you left?” she asked. “To find somewhere more exciting?”

“Something like that,” he agreed, marvelling at how she seemed to be equally fluent in both tongues. “I wanted to seek my fortune, you know, like in the stories. My father wants me to just stay home and be a farmer like he did, and he … well, I didn’t want to. Or at least, not yet.” He made no mention of the prophecy, for fear she, like his sisters, would think it stupid and laugh at him.

She nodded. “Grown-ups can be so boring, can’t they?” She giggled.

The sound, Kelder thought, was almost like birdsong.

Bright and beautiful, with a laugh like birdsong, with a magic all her own-this was the girl he was to marry! It had to be, beyond a doubt. He would bring her to his home in pride and delight, and spend his life with her in joy.

That was what the seer had said. Kelder swallowed.

Irith smiled at him, then abruptly sat down, cross-legged, on the grass. The movement exposed her ankles, and Kelder noticed something on one of them, several narrow bands encircling her leg.

Then she stretched her arms over her head and yawned, and Kelder stared at the display of curves elsewhere and forgot about her ankles. Wings aside, blonde hair aside, Irith was still far more interesting than Inza of the Blue Eyes.

“I got up early this morning,” she said casually, when the yawn was done. “I wanted to do a little early flying, before anybody else was up.”

Kelder settled to the ground himself, far more slowly and carefully, a few feet away from her. He stared at her, at the great shining wings, and wondered where she had come from. If he was going to marry her, he wanted to know something about her background. Was there a whole nation of winged people somewhere?

That would be a wonder worth seeing!

“Do you live around here?” he asked.

“Oh, I don’t live anywhere in particular,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Just wherever I happen to land.” She smiled at him again, an intoxicating smile. He smiled back without knowing why.

“What about your family?” he asked.

“Don’t have any,” she said. “They’re all long gone.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he replied.

She turned up an empty palm in a shrug.

They sat silently for a minute, each contemplating the sunlight on the grassy hillside and the road below. The place that Kelder had found so dismal the night before somehow seemed to be sparkling with beauties and possibilities now that Irith had appeared. Kelder wanted to say something to her-he wanted to impress her, to sweep her off her feet, to hurry along the process of courtship and marriage. Zindre had told him he would marry this creature, but she had never said how long it would take.

But Kelder found himself tongue-tied, unable to think of a word. Irith’s beauty was overwhelming.

Then Irith asked, “So, if you’re off to seek your fortune, how old are you, anyway? The traditional age is still thirteen, right? You certainly don’t look thirteen.”

“I’m not,” he admitted. “I’m sixteen.”

She nodded. “I guess you left it a bit late, then?”

He nodded. “What about you?” he asked.

“I’m fifteen,” she said.

He nodded again. That was just right, a year younger than himself.

Not that he would have minded if she weren’t.

After a moment’s hesitation, he gathered his nerve and said, “I never saw anyone with wings before.”