Windhaven

"Yes!" She ran around the side of the house, and as she laid her hand on the doorpull, it opened from within, and Coll caught her up in a big bear-hug.

Maris was always surprised by the size of her stepbrother. She saw him usually at intervals of years, and in between thought of him as young Coll, her little brother, thin, awkward and undeveloped, at ease only with a guitar in his hand when he could transcend himself by singing.

But her little brother had filled out, and grown into his height. Years of travel, earning passage to other islands by working as a sailor and laboring at whatever task came to hand when his audience was too poor to pay for his songs, had strengthened him. His hair, once red-gold, had darkened mostly to brown — the red showed only in his beard now, and in fire-lit glints.

"You are Evan, the healer?" Coll asked, turning to Evan. He held Maris in the crook of one arm. At Evan's nod, he went on, "I'm sorry to seem so rude, but we were told in Port Thayos that Maris was living here with you. We've been waiting these past four days for you. I broke a shutter to get in, but I've repaired it — I think you'll find it even better now." He looked down at Maris and hugged her again. "I was afraid we'd missed you — that you had flown away again!"

Maris stiffened. She saw the quick concern on Evan's face and shook her head at him very slightly.

"We'll talk," she said. "Let's sit by the fire — my legs are nearly worn off from walking. Evan, will you make your wonderful tea?"

"I've brought kivas," Coll said quickly. "Three bottles, traded for a song. Shall I heat one?"

"That would be lovely," Maris said. As she moved toward the cupboard where the heavy pottery mugs were kept, she caught sight of the child again, half-hiding in the shadows, and stopped short.

"Bari?" she asked, wonderingly.

The little girl came forward shyly, head hanging, looking up with a sideways glance.

"Bari," Maris said again, warmth in her tone. "It is you! I'm your Aunt Maris!" She bent to hug the child, then drew back again to take a better look. "You couldn't remember me, of course. You were no bigger than a burrow bird when I last saw you."

"My father sings about you," Bari said. Her voice rang clearly, bell-like.

"And do you sing, too?" Maris asked.

Bari shrugged awkwardly and looked at the floor. "Sometimes," she muttered.

Bari was a thin, fine-boned child of about eight years. Her light brown hair was cropped short, lying like a sleek cap on her head, framing a freckled, heart-shaped face with wide gray eyes. She was dressed like a smaller version of her father in a belted woolen tunic over leather pants. A piece of hardened resin, a clear, golden color, hung on a thong around her neck.

"Why don't you bring some cushions and blankets near the fire so we can all be comfortable," Maris suggested. "They're kept in that wooden chest in the far corner."

She got the mugs and returned to the fireside. Coll caught her hand and pulled her down beside him.

"It's so good to see you walking, healed," he said in his deep, warm voice. "When I heard of your fall, I was afraid you'd be crippled, like Father. All the long journey here from Poweet I kept hoping for more news, better news, and hearing none. They said that it was a terrible fall, onto rock; that both your legs and arms were broken. But now, better than any report, I see you're whole. How long before you fly back to Amberly?"

Maris looked into the eyes of the man who, although not blood-kin, she had loved as a brother for more than forty years.

"I'll never go back to Amberly, Coll," she said. Her voice was even. "I'll never fly again. I was hurt more badly than I knew in that fall. My arm and my legs mended, but something else stayed broken. When I hit my head… My sense of balance has gone wrong. I can't fly."

He stared at her, the happiness draining out of his face. He shook his head. "Maris… no…"

"There's no use saying no anymore," she said. "I've had to accept it."

"Isn't there something…"

To Maris' relief, Evan interrupted. "There's nothing. We've done all we can, Maris and I. Injuries to the head are mysterious. We don't even know what exactly happened, and there's no healer anywhere on Windhaven, I'd wager, who would know what to do to fix it."

Coll nodded, looking dazed. "I didn't mean to imply… It's just so hard for me to accept. Maris, I can't imagine you grounded!"

He meant well, Maris knew, but his grief and incomprehension grated against her, tore her wounds open again.

"You don't have to imagine it," she said rather sharply. "This is my life now, for anyone to see. The wings have already been taken back to Amberly."

Coll said nothing. Maris didn't want to see the pain on his face, so she stared into the fire, and let the silence grow. She heard the sound of a stone bottle being unstoppered, and then Evan was pouring the steaming kivas into three mugs.

"Can I taste?" Bari crouched beside her father, looking up, hopeful. Coll smiled down at her and shook his head teasingly.