The Name of the Wind

But the first time I’d seen him, Ben had somehow called the wind. That was no mere sympathy. That was storybook magic. That was the secret I wanted more than anything.

Spring thaw was well behind us and the troupe was riding through the forests and fields of the western Commonwealth. I was riding along, as per normal, in the front of Ben’s wagon. Summer was just deciding to make itself known again and everything was green and growing.

Things had been quiet for about an hour. Ben was drowsing with the reins held loosely in one hand when the wagon hit a stone and jarred us both out of our respective reveries.

Ben pulled himself more upright in his seat, and addressed me in a tone I had grown to think of as Have-I-Got-a-Puzzle-for-You. “How would you bring a kettle of water to a boil?”

Looking around I saw a large boulder by the side of the road. I pointed.

“That stone should be warm from sitting in the sun. I’d bind it to the water in the kettle, and use the heat in the stone to bring the water to boil.”

“Stone to water isn’t very efficient,” Ben chided me. “Only about one part in fifteen would end up warming the water.”

“It would work.”

“I’ll grant you that. But it’s sloppy. You can do better, E’lir.”

He then proceeded to shout at Alpha and Beta, a sign that he was in a genuine good mood. They took it as calmly as ever, in spite of the fact that he accused them of things I’m sure no donkey has ever willingly done, especially not Beta, who possessed impeccable moral character.

Stopping midtirade, he asked, “How would you bring down that bird?” He gestured to a hawk riding the air above a wheat field to the side of the road.

“I probably wouldn’t. It’s done nothing to me.”

“Hypothetically”

“I’m saying that, hypothetically, I wouldn’t do it.”

Ben chuckled. “Point made, E’lir. Precisely how wouldn’t you do it? Details please.”

“I’d get Teren to shoot it down.”

He nodded thoughtfully. “Good, good. However, it is a matter between you and the bird. That hawk,” he gestured indignantly, “has said something uncouth about your mother.”

“Ah. Then my honor demands I defend her good name myself.”

“Indeed it does.”

“Do I have a feather?”

“No.”

“Tehlu hold and—” I bit off the rest of what I was going to say at his disapproving look. “You never make it easy, do you?”

“It’s an annoying habit I picked up from a student who was too clever for his own good.” He smiled. “What could you do even if you had a feather?”

“I’d bind it to the bird and lather it with lye soap.”

Ben furrowed his brow, such as it was. “What kind of binding?”

“Chemical. Probably second catalytic.”

A thoughtful pause. “Second catalytic ...” He scratched at his chin. “To dissolve the oil that makes the feather smooth?”

I nodded.

He looked up at the bird. “I’ve never thought of that,” he said with a kind of quiet admiration. I took it as a compliment.

“Nevertheless,” he looked back to me, “you have no feather. How do you bring it down?”

I thought for several minutes, but couldn’t think of anything. I decided to try and turn this into a different sort of lesson.

“I would,” I said casually, “simply call the wind, and make it strike the bird from the sky.”

Ben gave me a calculating look that told me he knew exactly what I was up to. “And how would you do that, E’lir?”

I sensed he might be ready to finally tell me the secret he had been keeping all through the winter months. At the same time I was struck with an idea.

I drew in a deep breath and spoke the words to bind the air in my lungs to the air outside. I fixed the Alar firmly in my mind, put my thumb and forefinger in front of my pursed lips, and blew between them.

There was a light puff of wind at my back that tousled my hair and caused the tarpaulin covering the wagon to pull taut for a moment. It might have been nothing more than a coincidence, but nevertheless, I felt an exultant smile overflow my face. For a second I did nothing but grin like a maniac at Ben, his face dull with disbelief.

Then I felt something squeeze my chest, as if I was deep underwater.

I tried to draw a breath but couldn’t. Mildly confused, I kept trying. It felt as if I’d just fallen flat on my back and had the air driven from me.

All in a rush I realized what I had done. My body exploded into a cold sweat and I grabbed frantically at Ben’s shirt, pointing at my chest, my neck, my open mouth.

Ben’s face turned from shocked to ashen as he looked at me.

I realized how still everything was. Not a blade of grass was stirring. Even the sound of the wagon seemed muted, as if far off in the distance.

Terror screamed through my mind, drowning out any thought. I began to claw at my throat, ripping my shirt open. My heart thundered through the ringing in my ears. Pain stabbed through my straining chest as I gaped for air.