Windhaven

"This place oppresses me," Maris told Evan. "The Landsman of Lesser Amberly lives in a huge wooden manor on a hill overlooking the town. It has twenty guest rooms, and a tremendous banquet hall, and wonderful windows of colored glass, and a beacon tower for summoning flyers — but it has no walls, and no guards, and no gibbets."

"The Landsman of Lesser Amberly is chosen by the people," Evan said. "The Landsman of Thayos is from a line that has ruled here since the days of the star sailors. And you forget, Maris, that Eastern is not as gentle a land as Western. Winter lasts longer here. Our storms are colder and fiercer. Our soil has more metal, but it is not so good for growing things as the soil in the West. Famine and war are never very far away on Thayos."

They passed through a massive gate, down into the interior of the keep, and Maris fell silent.

The Landsman met them in his private reception chamber, seated on a plain wooden throne and flanked by two sour-faced landsguard. But he rose when they entered; Landsmen and flyers were equal. "I'm pleased you could accept my invitation, flyer," he said. "There was some concern about your health."

Despite the polite words, Maris did not like him. The Landsman was a tall, well-proportioned man with regular, almost handsome, features, his gray hair worn long and knotted behind his head in the Eastern fashion. But there was something disturbing about his manner, and he had a puffiness around his eyes, and a twitch at the corner of his mouth that his full beard did not quite conceal. His dress was rich and somber; thick blue-gray cloth trimmed with black fur, thigh-high boots, a wide leather belt inlaid with iron and silver and gemstones. And he wore a small metal dagger.

"I appreciate your concern," Maris replied. "I was badly injured, but I have recovered my health now.

You have a great treasure here on Thayos in Evan. I have met many healers, but few as skilled as he."

The Landsman sank back into his chair. "He will be well rewarded," he said, as if Evan was not even present. "Good work deserves a good reward, eh?"

"I will pay Evan myself," Maris said. "I have sufficient iron."

"No," the Landsman insisted. "Your near-death in my service gave me great distress. Let me show my gratitude."

"I pay my own debts," Maris said.

The Landsman's face grew cold. "Very well," he said. "There is another matter we must discuss, then.

But let it wait for dinner. Your walk must have left you hungry." He stood up abruptly. "Come, then.

You'll find I set a good table, flyer. I doubt you've ever had better."

As it turned out, Maris had eaten better on countless occasions. The food was plentiful, but badly prepared. The fish soup was far too salty, the bread was hard and dry, and the meat courses had all been boiled until even the memory of taste had fled. Even the beer tasted sour to her.

They ate in a dim, damp banquet hall, at a long table set for twenty. Evan, looking desperately uncomfortable, was placed well down the table, among several lands-guard officers and the Landsman's younger children. Maris occupied a position of honor at the Landsman's side next to his heir, a sharp-faced, sullen woman who did not speak three words during the entire meal. Across from her the other flyers were seated. Closest to the Landsman was a weary gray-faced man with a bulbous nose; Maris recognized him vaguely from past encounters as the flyer Jem. Third down was Corina of Lesser Amberly. She smiled at Maris across the table. Corina was terribly pretty, Maris thought, remembering what the runner had said. But then her father, Corm, had always been handsome.

"You look well, Maris," Corina said. "I'm glad. We were very worried about you."

"I am well," Maris said. "I hope to be flying again soon."

A shadow passed across Corina's pretty face. "Maris…" she started. Then she thought better. "I hope so," she finished weakly. "Everyone asks about you. We'd like you home again." She looked down and occupied herself with her meal.

Between Jem and Corina sat the third flyer, a young woman strange to Maris. After an abortive attempt to start a conversation with the Landsman's daughter, Maris fell to studying the stranger over her food.

She was the same age as Corina, but the contrast between the two women was marked. Corina was vibrant and beautiful; dark hair, clean healthy skin, green eyes sparkling and alive, and an air of confidence and easy sophistication. A flyer, daughter of two flyers, born and raised to the privileges and traditions that went with the wings.

The woman next to her was thin, though she had a look of stubborn strength about her. Pockmarks covered her hollow cheeks, and her pale blond hair was knotted in an awkward lump behind her head and pulled back in such a way as to make her forehead seem abnormally high. When she smiled, Maris saw that her teeth were crooked and discolored.

"You're Tya, aren't you?" she said.