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  "No," Sahn said quickly. "He's no one-wing. He wouldn't."

  "If he did?"

  "He's popular. A leader. There would be others." Clearly Sahn did not like what he was saying.

  "Dorrel of Laus is bringing a hundred Western flyers to join the circle," Maris said forcefully. An exaggeration, probably, but they had no way of knowing.

  The Landsman's mouth twitched. "Is this true?" he demanded of his pet flyer.

  Sahn coughed nervously. "Dorrel, I — well, it's hard to say, sir. He's influential, but, but…"

  "Silence," the Landsman said, "or I'll find someone else for those wings of yours."

  "Ignore him," Maris said sharply. "Sahn, a Landsman has no right to bestow or take away wings. The flyers have united to prove the truth of that."

  "Tya died wearing these wings," Sahn said. "He gave them to me."

  "The wings are yours. No one blames you," Maris said. "But your Landsman should not have done as he did. If you care, if you agree that Tya's death was wrong, join us. Do you have any black clothing?"

  "Black? I — well, yes."

  "Are you mad?" the Landsman said. He pointed at Sahn with his knife. "Seize that fool."

  Hesitantly, two of the landsguard started forward.

  "Stay away from me!" Sahn said loudly. "I'm a flyer, damn you!"

  And they stopped, looking back at the Landsman.

  He pointed again, his mouth twitching. He seemed to be having difficulty finding words. "You will — you will take Sahn, and—"

  He never finished. The doors to the chamber burst open then, and Coll was dragged bodily into the room by a brace of guards. They shoved him forward toward the Landsman; he stumbled to his hands and knees, then rose unsteadily. The right side of his face was a massive purplish bruise, and his eyes were as black as his clothing.

  "Coll!" Maris said, horrified.

  Coll managed a feeble smile. "My fault, big sister. But I'm all right." Evan went to him and examined his face.

  "I did not order this," the Landsman said.

  "You said he shouldn't sing," a landsguard replied. "He wouldn't stop singing."

  "He's all right," Evan said. "The bruise will heal."

  Maris sighed in relief. Despite all their talk of death, it had been a shock to see Coll's face. "I'm tired of this," she said to the Landsman. "Listen, if you want to hear my terms."

  "Terms?" His tone was incredulous. "I am Landsman of Thayos, and you are nothing, no one. You cannot give me terms."

  "I can and will. You'd do well to listen. If you don't, you won't be the only one to suffer. I don't think you realize the position you and Thayos are in. All over this island, your people are singing Coll's song, and the singers are moving from island to island, spreading it through the world. Soon everyone will know how you had Tya killed."

  "She was a liar, a traitor."

  "A flyer is not a subject, and cannot be a traitor," Maris said, "and she lied to stop a senseless war. Oh, she'll always be controversial. But you'd be a fool to underestimate the power of the singers. You're becoming a widely hated man."

  "Silence," the Landsman said.

  "Your people have never loved you," Maris continued. "They're frightened, too. The black flyers scare them, singers are being arrested, flyers are hanged, trade has been suspended, the war you started turned sour, even your landsguard are deserting. And you are the cause of it all. Sooner or later, they will think of getting rid of you. Already they know that nothing else will cause the black flyers to leave.

  "The stories are everywhere," Maris went on. "Thayos is cursed, Thayos is unlucky, Tya haunts the keep, the Landsman is mad. You will be shunned, like the first mad Landsman, like Kennehut. But your people will only endure it for a short time. They know the solution. They will rise against you. The singers will light the spark. The black flyers will fan the flames. You will be consumed."

  The Landsman smiled a sly, frightening smile. "No," he said. "I will kill you all, and have an end to it."

  She smiled back at him. "Evan is a healer who has given his life to Thayos, and hundreds owe him their very lives. Coll is among the greatest singers of Windhaven, known and loved on a hundred islands. And I am Maris of Lesser Amberly, the girl in the songs, the one who changed the world. I'm a hero to people who have never met me. You'll kill the three of us? Fine. The black flyers will watch and spread the news, the singers will make the songs. How long do you think you will rule then? The next flyers' Council will not be divided — Thayos will become like Kennehut, a dead land."

  "Liar," the Landsman said. He fingered his knife.

  "We mean no harm to your people," Maris said. "Tya is dead, and nothing will bring her back. But you will accept my terms, or everything I've warned you of will happen. First, you will give over Tya's body so she can be flown out to sea, and cast from a height, as flyers are always buried. Second, you will make peace, as she wished. You will renounce all claim to the mine that started your war with Thrane.

  Third, you will send a poor child to Airhome academy every year, to train for wings. Tya would like that, I think. And finally, finally" — Maris paused briefly, watching the storm behind his eyes, and plunged on regardless—"you will renounce your office and retire, and your family will be taken from Thayos, to some island where you are not known, and can live out your days in peace."

  The Landsman was running his thumb along the edge of the knife. He had cut himself, but he did not seem to notice. A tiny drop of blood spotted the white silk of his fine shirt. His mouth twitched. In the sudden stillness that followed her words, Maris felt faint and tired. She had done all she could. She had said all that she could say. She waited.

  Evan's arm went around her, and in the corner of her eye she saw Coll's bruised lips twist into a slight smile, and abruptly Maris felt almost good again. Whatever happened, she had done her best. She felt as if she had just returned from a long, long flight; her limbs ached and trembled, and she was damp and chilled through to the bone, but she remembered the sky and the lift of her wings, and that was enough.

  She was satisfied.

  "Terms," the Landsman said. His tone was poisonous.

  He rose from his throne, the blood-smeared knife in his hand. "I will give you terms," he said. He pointed the knife at Evan. "Take the old man and cut off his hands," he ordered. "Then cast him out and let him heal himself. That ought to be a sight to see." He laughed, and his hand moved sideways, so the knife was pointing at Coll. "The singer loses one hand and a tongue." The knife shifted again. "As to you," he said, when the blade pointed at Maris, "since you like the color black, I will give you your fill of it. I will put you in a cell without a window or a light, where it is black day and night, and you will stay there until you have forgotten what sunlight was. Do you like those terms, flyer? Do you?"

  Maris felt the tears in her eyes, but she would not let them fall. "I am sorry for your people," she said softly. "They did nothing to deserve you."

  "Take them," the Landsman said, "and do as I have ordered!"

  The landsguard looked at each other. One took a hesitant step forward, and stopped when he saw he was alone.

  "What are you waiting for?" the Landsman shrieked. " Seize them!"

  "Sir," said a tall, dignified woman in the uniform of a high officer, "I beg you to reconsider. We cannot maim a singer, or imprison Maris of Lesser Amberly. It would be the end of us. The flyers would destroy us all."

  The Landsman stared at her, then pointed with his knife. "You are under arrest as well, traitor. You will have the cell next to hers, if you like her so well." To the other landsguard, he said, "Take them."

  No one moved.

  "Traitors," he muttered, "I am surrounded by traitors. You will all die, all of you." His eyes found Maris.

  "And you, you will be the first. I will do it myself."

  Maris was achingly aware of the knife in his hand, the dull bronze length of it, the smear of blood along the blade. She felt Evan tense beside her. The Land
sman smiled and walked toward them.

  "Stop him," said the tall woman he had tried to arrest. Her voice was weary but firm. At once the Landsman was surrounded. A burly bear of a man held his arms, and a slim young woman took the knife from his grasp as easily and fluidly as if she had pulled it from a sheath. "I'm sorry," said the woman who had taken charge.

  "Let me go!" he demanded. "I am Landsman here!"

  "No," she answered, "no. Sir, I fear you are very sick."

  The grim, ancient keep had never seen such festivity.

  The gray walls were decked with bright banners and colored lanterns, and smells of food and wine, wood smoke and fireworks permeated the air. The gates had been opened wide to all. Landsguard still roamed the keep, but few were in uniform, and weapons were forgotten.

  The gibbets had been torn down, the scaffolding altered to make a stage where jugglers, magicians, clowns, and singers performed for the passing crowds.

  Within, doors were open and halls filled with merrymakers. Prisoners from the dungeons had been set free, and even the lowest riff-raff from the alleys of Port Thayos had been admitted to the party. In the great hall tables had been set up and covered with huge wheels of cheese, baskets of bread, and smoked, pickled, and fried fish of all kinds. The hearths still smelled of roasting pig and seacat, and puddles of beer and wine glistened on the flagstones.

  Music and laughter were in the air; it was a celebration of a richness and size unknown on Thayos in living memory. And among the crowds of the people of Thayos moved figures dressed in black — not, by their faces, mourners: the flyers. These flyers, one-wing and flyer-born alike, along with the previously exiled singers, were the guests of honor, feted and toasted by all.

  Maris wandered through the boisterous crowds, ready to cringe at any more recognition. The party had gone on too long. She was tired and feeling a little sick from too much food and drink, all tributes forced on her by admirers. She wanted only to find Evan and go home.

  Someone spoke her name and, reluctantly, Maris turned. She saw the new Landsman of Thayos, dressed in a long, embroidered gown that did not suit her. She looked uncomfortable out of uniform.

  Maris summoned a smile. "Yes, Landsman?"

  The former landsguard officer grimaced. "I suppose I will get used to that title, but it still brings to mind someone very different. I haven't seen much of you today— could I have a few minutes with you?"

  "Yes, of course. As many as you wish. You saved my life."

  "That wasn't so noble. Your actions took more courage than mine, and they weren't self-serving. The story they will tell about me is that I carefully plotted and planned to depose the Landsman and take his job. That is not the truth, but what do singers care for truth?" Her voice was bitter. Maris looked at her in surprise.

  They walked together through rooms filled with gamblers, drunks, and lovers until they found an empty chamber where they could sit and talk together.

  Because the Landsman still was silent, Maris said, "Surely no one misses the old Landsman? I don't think he was well-loved."

  The new Landsman frowned. "No, he will not be missed, and neither will I, when I am gone. But he was a good leader for many years until he became too frightened and began to think foolishly. I was sorry to have to do what I did, but I saw no other choice. This party, here, is my attempt to make the transition joyful, instead of fearful. To go into debt to make my people feel prosperous."

  "I think they appreciate the gesture," Maris said. "Everyone seems very happy."

  "Yes, now, but their memories are short." The Landsman moved slightly in her seat, as if to shake off the thought. The line between her eyes smoothed out, and her features took on a kindlier cast. "I didn't mean to bore you with my personal worries. I drew you aside to tell you how respected you are in Thayos, and to tell you that I honor your attempts to keep peace between the flyers and the people of Thayos."

  Maris wondered if she was blushing. "Please," she said. "Don't. I… had the flyers in mind, and not the people of Thayos, to be honest."

  "That doesn't matter. What you accomplished is what matters. You risked your life for it."

  "I did what I could," Maris said. "But I didn't achieve very much, after all. A truce, a temporary peace.

  The real problem, the conflicts between the flyer-born and the one-wings, and between the Landsmen and the flyers who work with them, is still there, and it will flare up again—" She broke off, realizing that the Landsman didn't care, and didn't want to know, that this happy ending was no true ending at all.

  "There will be no more trouble for the flyers on Thayos," the Landsman said. Maris realized that the woman had the useful ability to make a simple sentence sound like a proclamation of law. "We respect flyers here — and singers, too."

  "A wise choice," Maris said. She grinned. "It never hurts to have the singers on your side."

  The Landsman went on as if she had not been interrupted. "And you, Maris, will always be welcome on Thayos, if ever you choose to return to visit us."

  "Visit?" Maris frowned, puzzled.

  "I realize that, since you no longer fly, the journey by ship may be…"

  "What are you talking about?"

  The Landsman looked annoyed at all the interruptions. "I know that you are leaving Thayos for Seatooth soon, to make your home at the Woodwings Academy."

  "Who told you that?"

  "The singer, Coll, I believe. Was it a secret?"

  "Not a secret. Not a fact, either." Maris sighed. "I was offered the job at Woodwings, but I have not accepted it."

  "If you stay on Thayos, of course we would all be pleased, and the hospitality of this… my… keep will always be extended to you." The Landsman rose, obviously concluding her formal recognition of Maris, and Maris, too, stood, and they spoke a few moments longer of inconsequential things. Maris hardly paid attention. Her thoughts were in turmoil again about a subject she had determined was resolved. Did Coll think he could make something come true by speaking of it as fact? She would have to talk to him.

  But when she found him a few minutes later in the outer yard, near the gate, he was not alone. Bari was with him, and S'Rella — and S'Rella was carrying her wings.

  Maris hurried to join them. "S'Rella — you're not leaving?"

  S'Rella grasped her hands. "I must. The Landsman wants a message flown to Deeth. I offered to take it — I have to get home, and I would have to fly south in another day or two anyway. There was no need for Jem or Sahn to go so far when I can take it just as well. I just sent Evan to look for you, to tell you I was leaving. But it needn't be a sad farewell, you know — we'll see each other soon at Woodwings."

  Maris glared at Coll, but he looked oblivious. She said to S'Rella, "I told you I would live out my life on Thayos."

  S'Rella looked puzzled. "But surely you've changed your mind? After all that has happened? And you know they still want you at Woodwings — now more than ever. You've become a hero all over again!"

  Maris scowled. "I wish everyone would stop saying that! Why am I a hero? What have I done? Just patched things over for a bit longer. Nothing has been settled. You, at least, should realize that, S'Rella!"

  S'Rella shook her head impatiently. "Don't change the subject. What about that fine speech you gave us about needing a purpose in life — how can you turn your back now on the work you're meant to do?

  You've admitted you're no good as a healer — what will you do on Thayos? What will you do with your life?"

  Maris had asked herself that same question, and had lain awake most of the night arguing it with herself.

  Now she said quietly, "I will find something I can do here. The Landsman may have something for me."

  "But that's such a waste! Maris, you're needed at Woodwings. You belong there. Even without your wings you're a flyer — you always were, and you always will be. I thought you recognized that!"

  There were tears in S'Rella's eyes. Maris felt resentful and trapped — she didn't want to be hav
ing this argument. She said, trying to keep her voice level and calm, "I belong with Evan. I can't leave him."

  "And they say eavesdroppers never hear good of themselves."

  Maris turned to see Evan, and there was such tenderness in his eyes that she forgot her lingering doubts.

  She had made the right decision. She couldn't leave him.

  "But no one is asking you to leave me, you know," he said. "I've just been talking with a young healer who is eager to move into my house and take over my patients. I can be ready to leave within a week."

  Maris stared at him. "Leave? Leave your house? But why?"

  He smiled. "To go with you to Seatooth. It may not be a pleasant voyage, but at least we can comfort each other in our sickness."

  "But… I don't understand. Evan, you can't mean it — this is your home!"

  "I mean to go with you, wherever you go," he said, "I can't ask you to stay on Thayos, just to keep you beside me. I can't be that selfish, knowing you are needed at Woodwings, and that you belong there."

  "But how can you leave? How will you live? You've never been away from Thayos."

  He laughed, but it sounded forced. "You make it sound as if I proposed to go live in the sea! I can leave Thayos like anyone else, on a ship. My life hasn't ended yet, and until it has, there is no reason why I shouldn't change. Surely an old healer can find some work to do on Seatooth."

  "Evan…"

  He put his arms around her. "I know. Believe me, I've thought this through. Surely you didn't think I was sleeping last night while you were tossing and turning and wondering what to do? I decided that I can't let you walk out of my life. For once in my life, I must be bold, and dare something different. I am going with you."

  Maris couldn't hold the tears back then, although she couldn't have said just why she was crying. Evan pulled her close and held her tightly until she recovered.

  As they drew apart, Maris could hear Coll assuring Bari that her aunt was happy, that she was crying with joy; and she saw S'Rella, standing a little apart, her face alight with joy and affection.

  "I give up," Maris said. Her voice was somewhat shaky. She wiped her face with her hands. "I have no more excuses. I will go to Seatooth— we will go to Seatooth — as soon as we can get a ship out."