uc I I THE LUCK OF BRIN"S FIVE THE LUCK OF BRIM'FS FIVE Ckerry Wilder ANGUS & ROBERTSON PUBLISHERS I would like to acknowledge the help given by Ken Ozanne, astronomer and Science Fiction Wizard of Faulconbridge, New South Wales. cw. ANGUS & ROBERTSON PUBLISHERS London * Sydney 0 Melbourne 0 Singapore 0 Manila This book is copyright. Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research, criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act, no part may be reproduced by any process without written permission. Inquiries should be addressed to the publisher. First published in Australia by Angus & Robertson Publishers, Australia, 1979 c, Cherry Wilder 1977, 1979 National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in -publication data. Wilder, Cherry. The Luck of Brin's five. For children ISBN 0 207 13823 o hardbound ISBN 0 207 14368 4 paperbound 1. Title. 813'.54 Printed in Hong Kong CAST OF CHARACTERS BRIN MAMOR HARPER ROY OLD GWIN A Family of mountain weavers. All bear the family name Brinroyan (of Brin's Five). ODD-EYE (Eddorn) BRINROYAN The first Luck of Brin's Five. SCOTT GALE Lieutenant-NaEdgator of a Biosurvey team from the planet Earth. Adopted as the Luck of Brin's Five. He is given the nickname DIVER and is also known as ESCOTT GARL BRINRoYAN, a version of his name which is easier for Moruians to pronounce. DORN BRINROYAN Eldest child of Brin's Five, who tells the story. NARNEEN Second child of Brin's Five. TOMAR Youngest child of Brin's Five. HUNTER GEER Neighbor of Brin's Five on Hingstull Mountain. WHITEWING An albino. The Luck of Hunter Geer's Five. BEETH ULGAN (Beeth the Weathermaker) A Diviner in Cullin, the local township. Friend and adviser of Brin's Five. GORDO BEETHAN Her apprentice. A Witness or tele- path. RILPO RILPROYAN GALTROY TEWL RILPROYAN GALTROY A married pair. Gran- dees of Clan Galtroy. TSAMMET Their servant. An omor: one of a caste of fe- male workers noted for strength. MOONEEN A twirler or religious fanatic rescued by Diver and Harper Roy. PETSALEE, Host of Spirits Leader of the band of twirlers. ( V ) ITHO LANAR MEEDO Three ancients who sailed a bird-boat on the river Troon and carried passengers. TIATH AVRAN PENTROY The Great Elder, elected leader of the Council of Five Elders, chosen from the five clans of grandees. A powerful but unscrupulous gavernor and landowner, dedicated to preserving clan power. His nickname is Tiath Gargan, which means "Ropernaker", "Lawmaker" or "Strangler". NANTGEEB A powerful Diviner and scientist, out of favor with the Great Elder for the use of fire-metal-magic. Also known as the Maker of Engines. VARB'S FIVE A family of shepherds living at Wbiterock Fold. AT THE BIRD CLAN THE LAUNCHER The leading Bird Clan official. ABLO A townee from Otolor who serves as Diver's me- chanic and remains with Brin's Five. Later he is called Ablo, Binigan or Ablo the Fixer, the one who picks up dropped stitches. JEBBAL FALDROYAN LUNTROY A pilot at the Bird Clan. VALDIN THANAR Her children. MATTROYAN A merchant of Itsik. ULLO MATTROYAN His child; a pilot at the Bird Clan. MURSO PERAN PENTROY A young grandee, known as Blacklock. He is a popular hero on Torin for his athletic feats. A pilot at the Bird Clan and a pupil of Nantgeeb. SPINNER Blacklock's first officer, who takes care of him. FER UTOVANGAN Blacklock's copilot, whose name, which can mean Second Pilot or Former Bird Farmer, hints at his former identity. Antho, a birdfarmer from the outskirts of Fintoul, is a famous designer of flying ma- cbines whose adventures have passed into legend. ( Vi ) DEEL GIRROYAN A town-grandee of Otolor, pilot at the Bird Clan. VEL RAGAN (Vel the Scribe) A scribe from Tsagul, the Fire-Town. ONNAR A Witness, in his service. VARADON MEETAL ARTHO TRANJE TROY ALLOO BANO Vassals in the service of Tiath Pentroy. Members of a Gulgavor or seven-fold band, who have sworn to capture Diver or die in the attempt. TILJE PAROYAN DOHTROY ARN LORGAN (the Bridgemaker) Friends of Vel Ragan, from Tsagul, where they were in the service of. TSORL-U-TSORL Former Deputy of Tsagul, who has dis- appeared on an errand for Tiath Pentroy. k AT RINTOUL GUf4OGUNROYANWENTROY The Wentroy Elder on the Council of Five. Known as Guflo Deg-Old Cross- patch. LEETH LEETHROYAN GALTROY The Galtroy Elder on the Council. ORN ORNROYAN DOHTROY The Dobtroy Elder on the Council, known as Orn Margan-the Peacemaker. MARL NOONROYAN LUNTROY The Luntroy Elder on the Council. Known as Marl Udorn, Blind Marl--tbe Luck of Noon's Five. AV AVRAN PENTROY Old Av, Tiath's elder sibling, the head of his Family. URNAT AVRAN PENTROY A dwarf. The Luck of Av's Five. ( vii ) I THE LUCK OF BRIN"S FIVE Prologue A low mountain range straddled the northern coast of the "t continent; it was massive and striking, rising in places straight out of the grassy plain. The highest peaks lay to the north, snow-capped in summer because they were close to the polar circle. A hot summer sun burned down on the craggy lower slopes; there were stands of a straight-limbed tree with a red-brown trunk and small leaves of a particular bronze green. Campsites clustered among these trees; some were old and permanent as small villages, with a stone wall or a stockade. In summer many of the camps were empty: the campers had wandered off on their travels, to the fairground and the riverside. In other places there was a murmur of voices, the rhythmical clacking of looms; no open fires were lit, no smoke curled above the treetops. There were cool places to be found even in high summer; caverns full of the sound of rushing water; noisy brooks and torrents. Hunting trails ran along the tops of the ridges and dipped into the valleys that led down to the hot grass of the plain. There were natural plantations of a plant that looked like flax,; its flat leaves rattled and shook, never still, in the prevailing north wind. A man, travelling through this rough, pleasant, hill country could drink at the streams, eat berries if he dared, ( 3 ) breathe the mountain air. Yet the creatures that scrambled up the trees as he passed, the little bouncing deerlike animals that took off into the scrub, the slow, dipping flight of the birds would remind him, finally, that he was not on Earth. The continent and the world itself were called by the same name: Torin. When Esto, the Great Sun, set in the west, its strong golden light gave way to darkness, then to a silvery light, six times as strong as the reflected light of Earth's moon ... the light of Esder ... the Far Sun. It was possible to read, to hunt, to maneuver a flying machine by the light of Esder. Down below on the plain, during Esder light, other flickering lights clustered at fords and river crossings. In an old shallow crater a sheet of water threw back the Far Sun's light oddly; the water steamed and gave off its own phosphorescent glow. Beyond the northern bank of this~ lake twin peaks rose up, two of the highest in the range, and below them, on a stone terrace, stood a long oval building. It was a mild summer night in the year 274 of the New Age, two hundred and seventy-four Torin years since the last Torlogan or Great Builder handed power to the grandees. The only sounds here in the mountains were natural ones: bird calls, a stone dislodged that rolled down into a pool. When four Torin hours of darkness had passed and ten of Esder light, a new sound grew sharply in the clear air. The flying machine came buzzing in from the southwest and landed neatly on the terrace. It was strong and shapely, made of woven, stiffened fabric over a frame of bent wood. The wingspan was large; there was a propeller mounted on the nose and four smaller ones on the wing itself. On the hindmost panel, to the left, there was a row of painted characters; in the corresponding position to the right there were block letters: TOMARVAN 11. A man climbed down out of the machine and reached up to help down his companion, a young Moruian, an inhabi- ( 4 ) . i '31 tant of Torin. They talked softly, as if the silence of the mountains made them lower their voices, but the man's voice, his laughter, rang out sometimes. They came down from the terrace and began walking briskly towards the lake, just visible through the trees. The light of Esder picked out quite clearly their sameness and their difference. The man, Scott Gale, was well-built, broad-shouldered, muscular, a head taller than his young companion. He wore a synthetic blue zipper suit, a regulation garment hardly weathered by four hard years of an alien climate. Dorn, the Moruian, was seventeen years old; he was wiry, thin, long-limbed. He walked with a lithe, swinging motion; the carriage of his head, his hips, his thin, long- fingered hands, were all distinctive. By contrast Scott Gale was over-controlled, muscle-bound. Dorn had thick mid- brown hair, perfectly straight and cut off, carelessly, above the collar of his fine woollen tunic. His face was broad at the forehead, and tapering, with a straight nose, a long upper lip and a firm jaw. It might have been a human face, in certain attitudes, except for the eyes, which were widely spaced, very large, and set, up-curving, into his temples. Scott Gale was, in comparison, round faced and round headed, yet in cloak and hood he had often passed for a Moruian. His hair and beard were black; he had often, during his first days on Torin, cursed the Irish ancestors who gave him blue eyes. This strange pair walked on, talking in Moruian, until they came to the lake shore. Esto, the Great Sun, came over the shoulder of a mountain and turned the warm waters of the lake to gold. "There!" said Dorn, "and not even a stone for memori- al!" Scott Gale laughed. "Memorial to the loss of a good air ship," he said. "Ah, but it is strange!" exclaimed Dorn. "Don't you feel it? To remember the past so clearly ... We stand where the party from the hunting lodge was standing . . ." He looked back to the oval building on the terrace. ( 5 ) "They carried torches and lances, that night, and a Galtroy banner . . . star and spindle." He knelt at the water's edge, wrinkling his forehead, and skipped a stone across the steamy water. "I've heard the story, from the Family," said Gale, "until it's like a story from my own childhood. I don't know what I remember or what was told to me." He pointed to a narrow beach on the far side of the lake. "Was it about there that you pulled me ashore?" "Yes," said Dorn. They walked on, around the head of the lake, with Dorn running ahead and clambering over fallen logs. When Gale caught up again, Dorn was staring ahead at a particular rock above the little beach. Over the rock arched an old, gnarled tree, a mountain black-thorn, which had been struck by lightning and scarred along one side of its bent, trunk. The rock was scratched and indented with written characters; the tree itself was strung with loose clumps of thread, of varying thickness, knotted in certain patterns. "Well, someone has not forgotten," said Scott Gale. "What do the skeins say?" They walked to the tree, and Dorn climbed the rock and felt at the largest message skein. He read off the woven symbols: "Praise to our Mother, the North Wind, and to Eddorn who found great fortune for his Family." Then he reached for another skein. "Send us a Luck to equal the Luck of Brin's Five." Scott Gale shook his head and smiled sadly. "I wish them better luck than that," he said. He came to the rock and stood with Dorn looking down, between the rock and the tree, at a narrow grave, carefully covered with round stones. They went down and sat on the strip of white sand by the water's edge. "It should all be told," said Dorn. "It is part of this world's history." ( 6 ) I "The way human beings came to Torin?" "Our part of it," said Dorn, "the part that I remember ... that first winter and the spring that came after it, when you first joined our Family and travelled with us." "Then you must write it," said Scott Gale. "No one else could do it so well. You will be Dorn Utragan pretty soon ... Utragan, the scribe in two languages. The first on Torin." "It has been a long time," said Dorn. "I am hardly the same person.)l "You are not an ancient yet . Scott Gale grinned. Dorn blinked and laughed; he was about to throw a stone into the lake but instead he pointed, with a hand to his lips for silence. A bird, about the size of a large kingfisher, came gliding out of the trees and swung down low over the surface of the water; its wings flashed a dark, iridescent blue. "What is that called, then?" Dorn asked in a whisper. "Great Wind!" said Scott Gale. "It must be a Diver!" They laughed so loudly together at a shared joke that the bird flew off, startled. ( 7 ) I WILL -rELL HOW WE FOUND OUR LUCK, the great Luck of Brin's Five, and how, being found, it led us on to good fortune beyond all dream-spinning. I am Dorn, eldest child of our Family. When the Luck came, I was twelve years old and we lived high on the slopes of Hingstull Mountain, near the Warm Lake. It was a hard winter: our fingers were stiff with cold as we worked at the looms; the snow bore down on the fabric of our house. A blizzard had ripped families of spinners from our home trees and rolled them down the mountainside like dead birds. Food was scarce; two Families had quit the glebe and now only two were left. Hunter Geer, who boasted many thick pelts, and, as we said, a thick head and a thick hide, was bound in under a rock wall across the glebe, watching us perish with cold by the east gate. We could not go down the mountain because our Luck was dying. At first we sang; Old Gwin boiled herbs after scratching them from the snow; dearest Brin embraced us all; but it was no use. Mamor and Harper Roy talked all night apart, but they could not find a solution. Our Family, Brin's Five, and a perfect Five it had been, five adults with no outclips, was doomed. Odd-Eye lay in his bag, spinning ( 8 ) ( 9 ) yarns still in a dream voice, with the marks of death on his face. I remember Narneen weeping at night in the sleeping bag, because the spring would not come if our Luck died - It seemed perfectly possible to me. No good thing would ever happen again: the suns would not rise, the spring would not come, our webs would break and our youngest child, still hidden, would never be seen. In the city, as I have since observed, people live in a different way and have no Family, no Luck to bind them, and they survive very well, but as mountain people we followed the old threads. We did not give up easily. Every day we fought against our doom by searching for a new Luck. Sometimes Brin went out as far as the lake, alone or with Mamor. Harper Roy went out in the night, and we heard him singing against the storm and harping for our deliverance. When the wind died down, they sent Narneen and me to the lake shore, with instructions to walk in circles, to pray, to call, to bring back news of any stranger passing. It is strange to stand in winter by the Warm Lake. Clouds of steam rise up off the surface into the frosty air, and where the cold mist from the pass meets the steam they form spiral patterns. I remember once standing hand-in- hand with Narneen, letting the water play over our frozen feet. We looked up and saw two figures watching us from a crag, Hunter Geer and Whitewing. One fierce and ruddy, with hair the color of dried blood hanging over a wolf-skin tunic. The other even more frightening, immensely tall and thin and white as the snow, for Whitewing had no color. Whitewing was the Luck of Hunter Geer's Five ... white-haired, bloodless, from the first showing. From where we stood by the lake, we co * uld not see those pink eyes flashing ill-will upon us. I bent down and seized a warm pebble, then molded snow around it. I flung it at Whitewing, high on the crag, crying out as it fell short, "We will find our Luck again!" Whitewing laughed aloud, a high, jagged laugh that rang and echoed from the farthest shore. Two days later we ate the last of the preserved game birds; there was nothing left but blackloaf and dried sunner. A blizzard was blowing, and Mamor could not hunt. Odd-Eye did not speak, and we felt sure our Luck was dying; but suddenly, towards noon on the second day, his mind became clear. Odd-Eye spoke to each of us in turn and prayed for the hidden child. I felt desolate and strange when my turn came to sit beside him. Odd-Eye had a long hatchet face; one of his eyes was green, the other brown. He was short and misshapen, but in all the time I could remember, he had been so agile I could not think of him as old. He was a good Luck, for he had made it his calling; he was "a Luck out of the bag". Every Luck has suffered some misfortune: there ar( dwarfs and cripples, the blind, the deaf, the mad and th( half-mad. I have never seen a hunchback who was not tht Luck of some Family or some grandee. It is equally correct to adopt as a lucky person someone who has lost a leg or been scarred in a fire or maimed in some other fashion, though some say a "born Luck" is best. Odd-Eye said to me, when my turn came, "Cheer up, Dorn. I have dreams for you that are as fine as Blacklock's mantle." I could not help smiling. We had often talked in summer, at the loom or in the woods, of Blacklock, the swaggering hero from Rintoul. I had half-persuaded Odd-Eye to take me downriver, across the plains, to see the great city of Rintoul and watch Blacklock perform his feats. The fame of Blacklock had certainly reached our mountain. Hunter Geer, who had visited Rintoul, claimed to have shaken Blacklock by the hand, but Hunter Geer is a liar. . "Now Dorn, you must take me!" said Odd-Eye in a quavering voice. "Take me out to the lakeside, to our rock ( 10 ) under the burned tree, and I will have a last try. I must find my dear Family a replacement." They looked sideways at me, to make sure I was not afraid, then Harper Roy bound Odd-Eye upon our sled wrapped in the thickest rugs we had and covered with our only wolf pelt. I was wrapped up just about as tightly, and when the wind dropped, I started on my way. Before I left, Old Gwin came up with a basket of hot stones and three roasted graynuts that she had been saving. The stones went at Odd-Eye's feet to warm him, and I had a warm pocketful of graynuts. I have had to laugh, since those days, when I have heard scholars in Rintoul swear that the "primitive Moruia" use no fire. Indeed we were chary of fire ... our home was made of flaxen cloth pulled over a tree! I never saw a blaze or a flame in our glebe, but we certainly used fire in winter, and we warmed our food. A point in the scholars' favor is this: we never spoke of fire or called a flame, a flame. We were superstitious. Old Gwin made us say instead "the Kind One". It was a weaver's mile to the lakeside; but after the first rise outside the western gate, it was downhill all the way. The sled was light because Odd-Eye was nothing but skin and bone. I trudged through the snow numb with anxiety as much as cold. This journey was like stepping off the edge of the world; I felt that the worst was about to happen, that I was hard up against the cruelty of life and could do nothing to change it. I had a hard time hoisting the sled to our comfortable place under the burned tree. Then I checked to see if Odd-Eye was alive; his odd eyes blinked at me. I went down and warmed my hands and feet at the lake, then I came back to sit on the rock and eat my graynuts. There was no snow falling, and the winds were still. We saw Esto, the Great Sun, go down, a smear of orange in the distant west; it was the time of "runar", the little darkness before ( 11 ) the rising of the Far Sun. Trails of phosphorescence sprang up on the lake's surface and overhead the stars blazed. I was dozing when Odd-Eye gave a thin cry. "Glider!" "What is it?" I was frightened, sure that he was dying, that his mind was wandering again. "A glider!" He was straining against the thongs that bound him to the sled. His voice was so weak that I had to put my ear close to his lips. "Look, Dorn . . . coming down over the lake . I stared and saw what he meant, but it was no glider. It was more like a falling star, then blazing closer, like a fireball or meteor. I thought, in fact I hoped, that it would fall short, a long way from us, behind the peaks on the far bank of the lake. But Odd-Eye was whispering in my ear, and the fireball came closer, "A glider! A balloon! It will strike in the lake and your Luck is there, I know it! A great Luck is there!" The light from the fireball grew from white to orange to pinkish red; I was terrified now, for I could see that it would not fall short. I wassure it would crush us, right there under the burned tree. It came on and on, and I could not look away until it fell hissing and burning into the lake near the far bank. Then I saw two other things: a hunting party on that bank, near the dark peaks-city dwellers with banners and lances-and in the upper air floating towards our side, two little white tents on strings wafting down among the tendrils of steam. I left Odd-Eye without a word and ran back along the track. Halfway to the rise I cannoned into Brin and Harpei Roy, coming to relieve me at my post, and blurted out m) story. "We saw the fireball!" said Brin. "What's this about i tent in the air?" "The Luck!" I gasped. "Don't you see? It will land in th, take!" ( 12 ) ( 13 ) "Odd-Eye called it a glider?" asked Harper Roy. "Some vessel!" I said. "Some air ship. Oh please come ... the Luck is in the lake by now. . . ." They were coming along with me as I babbled, and we came in sight of the lake. The white tents floated in a tangle about fifty feet from the shore. "Something came down . . ." said Harper Roy. There were shouts and torchlights springing up on the far bank. The hunting party was trying the steamy water, to probe the place where the fireball struck. Suddenly there was a movement near us; I saw the tents and their cordage wrap against a heavy body, circling slowly in the wide whirlpool eddies of the warm lake. "Quickly!" said Brin. "Reef in the cords ... there is someone bound to them!" We waded into the warm water until I was swimming and dragged at the cords and fought with billowing heaps of warm, wet fabric, soft as silk. There was a grotesque figure floating in the water: ballooning legs, stiff arms, square head with one dark, glistening eye, big as a whole face. Then it came to rest on the shore, and we all saw what it was ... a kind of body-shaped bag of fine metallic cloth. The dark eye was a piece of glass. Someone lived inside the bag, and we knew it must be our Luck. "Blood . . ." said Harper Roy, ". . . on the sleeve . From within the helmet there came a feeble gasping cry, for all the world like that of a hidden child. Brin struggled with the square helmet while Harper Roy got to work with his knife on the strangling mess of cords. He reefed in the two white tents. I could see that Roy did not mean all that wealth of white silk to go to waste. Brin gave a soft cry; the helmet was off. There in the night, with no light but a radiance off the snow, we could just make out a face. A young face, with pale soft features and short hair; black hair, black as night. The eyes were open now, and a deep voice implored and questioned; we did not understand one word. We all replied at once in the most soothing tones we knew: You are safe. You are our dear Luck, come in answer to our prayers. We will help you. You have come to Brin's Five. We are your Family, and we will love you. There was a confused shouting and splashing from the far bank. "Do you read that crest?" asked Harper Roy. "Star and spindle," said Brin, peering through the mist at the torchlit banners. "Some grandee. But they will not have our Luck." The Luck lay still now, eyes closed; I could not look away from that pale face. Then suddenly Harper Roy was beside me with our sled and coverings, gently rolling the Luck upon it, still in the body bag. I started up. "Odd- Eye!" But Brin pulled me down again into the shadow. "Odd- Eye has no need of these things any more." Then I was filled with remorse and sadness and almost hated the new Luck because I had left Odd-Eye alone to die, by the burned tree. The hunting party had not seen us, but they were beginning to move around the head of the lake towards our beach. We took everything including the bales of white silk; the Harper dragged a branch over the places where we had been. We went quickly up the track, bent double, dragging the sled, and a light snow fell behind us, covering our traces as we bore the Luck safely home. ( 14 ) t WE WERE AFRAID OF PURSUIT THAT SAME NIGHT, but it did not come. We sat in the dark, retelling the miracle to Old Gwin and Mamor and Narneen. Then Brin made a bold decision and lit two candlecones from Gwin's secret store. 44we must not lose the Luck now it is come!" said Harper Roy, in answer to Old Gwin's protest. "Pray to the Kind One or whatever you like, but we must tend these wounds." "A glider?" rumbled Mamor. "Burn us but it must be some rich grandee that will never stay with mountain folk!" "An air sbip!" I insisted, "not a glider!" "You sure it ain't some Hairywing, some goblin come through the void from Derrin?" teased Mamor again. Narneen whimpered. "Hush!" said Brin. "It is a person . . . a Moruian. Per- haps it is an Islander." Old Gwin who had been wrestling with the shining body bag found the way to work the fastening and began to peel it off. "You see, Mamor?" I said. In the confined space we slid off the body bag and had it folded away quickly. "Not bad . . ." said Old Gwin. "Fetch clean snow in a basket. There's a cut . . . oh poor dear . . . the Luck has a burn. The Luck's poor dearest hand is burned." "If it were perfect," said Harper Roy, "we might not have a Luck." While Old Gwin washed and dressed the burned hand and the cut head, we examined our new Luck. We saw a tall, strongly made figure, like our own and yet not like. The proportions were different: heavier muscles, especially on the shoulders, like a porter. Arms shorter, head more round, face rather more flat, eyes more frontal and so on. This has all been detailed now and studied, but we were the first ones, so I believe, to make such observations. The hair we could not believe: black as night, soft and curly as fleece; we all touched it as the Luck lay there, breathing strongly. We compared it with our own hair, all straight, of course, and fine, from Old Gwin's gray strands to the even brown of the grown-ups and the streaked blonde of myself and Narneen. Then the skin, paler than ours even in winter, pale and unmarked by the sun, the way grandees in Rintoul might be, if they took care and used sunshades. "An Islander?" asked Brin. The Luck wore a beautiful suit of rich, soft fabric, all in one like the body bag; a dark blue suit down to the feet, covered in white stockings after the heavy boots came off. Over the suit was a sleeveless vest covered with pockets and pouches, closed with that same interlocking fastening that had tried Old Gwin's patience. We took off the vest and laid it aside, then Mamor worked the fastening on the beautiful blue suit and drew it down over the shoulders, drawing the burned hand carefully from the left sleeve. More clothes-a shirt and long trunk-hose in fine white woven stuff. "A quick look!" said Old Gwin. "We mustn't freeze the Islander to death!" "It's not cold," said Harper Roy. "This is the Lucl('-~ showing!" ( 16 ) We laughed, and Brin stripped off the shirt; Old Gwin gave a sharp intake of breath. At first I saw only those tantalizing marks of difference-like and unlike all together. The stripping made the Luck more slender because the suit gave shape and padding. The rib cage was the same, the muscles heavy like an athlete or porter. The skin was utterly foreign in its pallor and the pattern of body hair, thick on the chest and descending onto the belly, was unlike a Moruian. "I think the Luck could grow that hair on its face!" said Mamor. "So much?" said Harper Roy enviously, feeling the Luck's smooth chin. "You're right. It has hair scraped off right up to the ears." Old Gwin was amazed at something else: two circular marks on the hairy chest. "Great North Wind!" whispered Harper Roy. "What sort of creature is this . . . to have teats on the chest?" "They're not true nipples," said Brin. "Could they be scars? Some kind of ritual cicatrice? Remember the legend of the Branding." Old Gwin clucked and made some crude remark to Mamor, which he did not repeat. She made a sign to avert threads of evil and reefed off the Luck's last garment. There was no doubt, the Luck was a male person, and below the waist his appearance was remarkably normal. There was a round, sunken scar in the center of the body, which we found puzzling, but the rest of him quite sound and well-formed. Gwin covered the Luck and put back the beautiful blue suit; Narneen, cheeky wretch, had slipped off a white sock and counted the Luck's toes. Five of course, rather squashed and flattened from their tight covering. Gwin said: "Leave him be!" "Name the Luck!" I said. "He must have a name." "It will tell us," said Mamor. "Give the poor fellow time." ( 17 ) "No," said Brin, "Dorn is right. A nickname would be our gift to the Luck. Roy?" The Harper ran a hand over the strings and pronounced first. "Nightbird." "Starfall." "Blackbird." "Kind Star." "Dark." "Blueskin." So it went round the circle until someone said "Diver . . ." and we knew this was the perfect name. A diver is a bird with blue plumage, the color of the Luck's blue suit. Divers come to the Warm Lake for a while in spring, for the shrimp hatching. Diver! How we laughed! "Perfect!" said Brin. "It gives nothing away." Narneen gave a squeak. We saw that the Luck-Diver-had opened his eyes, and they were blue. Not green or tawny or brown or hazel or any color but blue, bright piercing blue, an eye color unknown among the Moruia. We stared and Diver stared back, taking in slowly the recesses of the tent, the glowing candlecones, the ring of faces. I heard the sound of the wind, thrusting at the edges of the tent. Outside was the glebe and beyond its wall the forest, the mountainside. We were perched high on Hing- stull, upon the round orb of Torin, a small bead woven into the network of two suns. But the mystery of the spinning universe had been caught and held, for a moment, right here in our tent. I stared, on his behalf, at my own Family. What could Diver see? The looms that took up so much space, the brightly colored pieces of work drying or stretching up above us; the colony of spinners, all we had left, wintering in the fork of our tree. The wool sacks, the racks where Old Gwin kept food baskets. The hide bags for clothing, the sheafs of ( is ) parchment and cypher threads and music skeins that Brin and Harper Roy had collected, Mamor's weapons. Then the Family ... the adults, who looked to me as well-worn and pleasant as the familiar objects we had made for our use every day. Thin brown faces, mainly hairless, though the Harper grew a lock on his chin. Heads of straight soft hair, plaited or tied, of a plain bear-brown; eyes widely spaced, long-lashed, all dark brown except Mamor, whose eyes, like my own, are hazel. Straight features, long upper lips, straight teeth ... Old Gwin's were almost gone. W were muffled in winter tunics and leggings and shawls, but Mamor's build -was noticeably the heaviest; he had a scar on his left cheek. Brin's face was the noblest; she wore the vented robe and a copper amulet, very old, the only metal we carried in the house, besides four knives. Then the children, Narneen and myself, thin, straight and brown as the rest, our hair lighter. Diver looked hard and raised his head. Old Gwin clucked and gave him another pillow. Then we began to speak, reassuring him. He spoke, in that surprisingly strong, guttural voice; his words seemed harsh, well- formed, dropping hard as graynuts into the murmuring pool of our speech. His teeth were as straight as ours; he curved up his mouth ... we all smiled back. Narneen laughed, and Brin, picking up Diver's sound right hand, laced fingers in the sign that is called "Welcome". She said the word; Diver easily repeated it, and that was the first word he learned in our speech. We all made the sign with his hand or our own and repeated the word to him. He greeted us, then became anxious; his words made us cringe a little. Harper Roy mimed the tale of the vessel landing in the lake and made zooming, splashing noises. Then we showed the Luck his body bag, the vest and the white tents that had supported him in the air. He was calmer. He took the vest, and from the first of those magic ( 19 ) pockets dosed himself with two small orange globes of medicine. Then he opened another pocket and brought out a flat package of dark brown squares, wrapped in crackling metal paper. Old Gwin made an averting sign, not the first or the last; she was very superstitious. Anything to do with fire or metal frightened her. Diver broke off a dark brown square and ate it. Then he broke off other squares and held them out in front of us. "Go on," said Brin, "it must be fit to eat." She took a piece, then Narneen ... always hungry ... then the rest of us. It was indescribable. The sweetest thing I had tasted in my life to that moment was wild honeycomb, and not much of that. We devoured that first square of chocolate like twirlers in ecstasy. Diver had other rations, but we refused them and ate our blackloaf; we were positive now that our luck had changed. It was difficult to speak with Diver; but very soon he tool; from his vest a small sheaf of paper and a little, hard blu( pen. With these he began his drawings. He was ver) skillful at drawing all kinds of simple things, and he coul( draw faces ... our faces, his own. His work was clever a: a tapestry tale-weaver. At the very beginning of his lif with us, something was said that rings in my mind still because it is so strange. Diver listened to us very closely but he could scarcel repeat anything we said, at first, because our speech is fai and soft. But without prompting, he spoke up and sai( "Moruia." We agreed, pointing to ourselves, and he sa'. again, "Moruia of Torin." It could be argued that he caug' the words from our speech or read our thoughts. This is n so. Diver had no magical powers in the true sense; he w "thought-blind" and could not use a Witness. I believe explanation: that his ancestor spoke these names in prophecy long ago, in the system of another star. Our luck had changed. We slept late; and when awoke, Mamor and Harper Roy had been to the lake. T1 ( 20 ) had performed funeral rites for Odd-Eye and buried his body. I often thought of Odd-Eye in the days that fol- lowed, and sometimes in dreams I spoke to him and told him how well we were doing. I wondered if his soul-bird had flown with the North Wind, our Great Mother, or if it still hovered near us, watching, as certain brave souls are permitted to do. But I was a child and could not mourn long. That morning my main interest was in food; Roy and Mamor had picked up a sack of mud-crabs, washed up on the lake shore out of season. Then on the way back Mamor shot a scrub deer. They saw certain other things and came back quickly to report. I left off threading the contrary little brute of a mat-loom and was unloading the mud-crabs. "There's company!" said Mamor, jerking his head to- wards the lake. "A search?" asked Brin. "It will come to that." "Armed vassals," explained Harper Roy, "trying to drag up Diver's ship in a net. It will go all the way to Rintoul." "What was that crest again?" mused Brin. "Star and spindle. Do you know that, Mother)" Old Gwin snorted and went on skinning the deer with her own shell-knife. "A branch of Clan Galtroy. That crest was quartered on a hanging by Roneen Tarroyan ... may her soul-bird fly far ... Galtroy are southern grandees. City-folk." Mamor shook his head. "That was not the only crest we saw." "What else?" asked Old Gwin, catching something of his tension. "Out with it!" "Three knots," said Mamor. "The armed vassals in the patrol all bore this device." Brin looked for confirmation to the Harper, who struck three notes on his harp. I was filled with uneasiness. "What crest?" I asked. "Brin, tell me, who is that?" ( 21 ) "We live on his land, child," she said patiently, kicking the changes on the great loom and running the shuttles through. "That is the device of the Great Elder, Tiath Avran Pentroy." I blurted out the terrible nickname: "Tiath Gargan!" It was a name to frighten children; all the adults turned to me andlaughed. "Yes!" said Mamor, "old Strangler Tiath himself. This Galtroy visitor and a party of Pentroy vassals have been using the hunting lodge at Twin Peaks, beyond the lake." "Will they come searching?" I looked at Diver, deeply asleep on a pile of bedding, within wind of our looms. "They shall not have our Luck!" said Brin firmly. "Maybe they'll be content with the ship," said Mamor. "It was a fine sight," said the Harper, "roundish . . silver ... made all of metal." Old Gwin hissed and madi the averting sign. "Cook the food," said Brin. "If the weather holds we'l travel south tomorrow." "After we eat," I said, "could we do the binding cerem( ny?11 They all approved, and I was proud to be taken into the counsel. So at midday we feasted on mud-crabs ar venison, then we woke Diver, and Old Gwin fed him son broth. Afterwards we enacted the binding ceremony with white cord. Diver was refreshed from his long sleep ax watched everything we did; I think he understood it. V bound all our wrists together, chanted and clasped han~ Then Old Gwin drew out a message skein, and it we round the circle with each of us tying the knots that spell out our names. Narneen and Brin guided Diver's hand, a there at the base of the skein was his given name, Diver. I was bound a member of our Family, Brin's Five. After that we drank water and went back to our weavii Narneen, lucky wretch, was permitted to leave,off I carding and spinning and sit with Diver. He began at oi ( 22 ) e a d e S. t d d e 9. er e to learn our speech, beginning with the names of common objects. He was especially quick and diligent in this study, copying what Narneen said in his penetrating foreign voice and writing in another small bound sheaf of paper. We felt his determination, his eagerness to know all things; we took things more steadily on the mountain before Diver came. He was of a different race; there was an edge of impatience about him. The break in the weather did not last long enough; Mamor believed another blizzard was coming that would keep us on the mountain. As we were dismantling the looms that same evening, Narneen heard something. Old Gwin and Brin buried the Luck in a cloud of new work and blankets; Whitewing, that bird of evil omen, stood outside our tent. "Peace to Brin's Five from Hunter Geer, their glebe neighbor." "Peace in sad time," replied Harper Roy, lounging at the open flap with a bunch of red mourning threads. "Sadness?" The albino peered boldly into the dark recesses of our tent. "Odd-Eye is gone," said the Harper, making an averting sign. "May his soul-bird fly far," murmured Whitewing, running a thin, blue-veined claw down the tent fabric so that the dry skin rasped against the coarse cloth. "Have you heard of the fire-ship in the lake?" "I have seen comings and goings," said Roy cautiously. "A fire-ship?" Whitewing hissed with pleasure. "There is a great reward for catching its devil!" "A devil!" Harper Roy made an averting sign. "There was a devil in the fire-ship?" "A devil . . ." said Whitewing,and Tiath Gargan will have it for his own." "Great NorthWind . . ." said Roy. "Is our Great Elder ( 23 ) I come to Hingstull as well as a flying devil?" "He lies downriver at Otolor; he has flown in a party of vassals to scour the mountains." We shuddered now at Whitewing's story; Tiath Gargan had never come so close. Roy probed a little. "Is it certain this devil did not ... drown?" "Tiath's hunters saw it flying down," said Whitewing eagerly. "The Great Elder will give land-title to any Family that delivers up the flying goblin, dead or alive." "That is a great reward." Roy was cunning. "Perhaps Mamor and I might try . . ." "What?" creaked Whitewing. "With no Luck in your house? Hunt a devil?" "Why do you tell us then?" "Out of friendship." Whitewing grinned like a wolf. "Hunter Geer will catch the devil. Tell us if you see any prowling thing." "None," said Roy, "before you came. ~1 Whitewing's pink eyes blazed. "Take care! If the devil is not found ... who knows what Strangler Tiath might do in his wrath?" "We need not fear him!" "You must!" Whifewing took a step into our tent, but thi Harper blocked his way. "Your Luck has died. You an accursed. If the devil is loose, your ill-fortune will keep u from finding it. Tiath Pentroy is a devout follower of th old threads." "Our prayers for Odd-Eye's journey are not ended! growled Roy. "Leave us in peace ... or you blasphem against our Mother, the North Wind." "Remember my warning . . ." Whitewing drew bac] hovering for a moment outside our tent. Then through sli and watch-holes we all saw the creature run flapph through the snow towards Hunter Geer's tent, under tl rock wall. ( 24 ) ( 25 ) We doused our candlecones and talked in the dark. Poor Diver came out from the covers confused and still more confused by the way we clapped hands over his mouth to silence him. There was a terrible struggle to communicate, but he accepted that danger was about and sat mute. "We must leave!" said Marnor. "This night, rain or snow. Our good fortune depends on it." He dug me in the ribs and rattled the mat-loom; I went on taking it to pieces. Brin was already packing her scrolls and skeins into one of the hide bags. "Strangler Tiath . quavered old Gwin, "will he come after us?" "Not likely," said Brin. "We have more to fear from the weather." "You don't know," Gwin whined. "You've not seen the Pentroy's handiwork. Trees strung with the dead, like rotting fruit!" "We must leave, Mother!" urged Roy. "What if they searched this tent? Then we are in trouble with Tiath Pentroy, and our Luck is dragged into Rintoul as a devil." "We must leave word for Hunter Geer," said Brin. "We have gone in order to leave him a clear field ... to take away our accursedness." "The Luck wants his pocket vest," said Narneen. "He is patting about for it." We gave Diver his vest, thinking he was hungry for more chocolate, but instead he performed another of his miracles. He produced something from a pocket, and there was light ... a marvellous cool circle of light, better than a candlecone, coming from a small gray rod. We sat in amazement; then Mamor began to dismantle the two great looms while Brin and Roy rolled and sorted the finished work. Gwin fussed in case there was fire-metal-magic at work; but I tapped the case of the magic light, and it was not metal. It was not wood either but something like horn or crab shell. Wonder of wonders, Diver had two of the magic lights, and he gave me one to hold. He showed me how to work a sliding catch on the shaft and turn the light on and off. Then he gestured to me. "Why?" I believe he even had the word. Why were we alarmed, packing up, talking so urgently in the dark? So while the Family labored around us in the familiar ritual of packing, Narneen and I labored with the explanation. Danger! Armed vassals with spears, ropes ... ropes for hanging. Diver drew on his paper, we tried to draw. New words crackled around Diver's head, but he took it in. And all the while he and I held the magic lights and spotted them in the exact place that they were needed. Suddenly Diver stood up, excited; I would have sai~ afraid. Of what? Our spinners, poor creatures, that Brir was popping one by one into their sack with a few ends ol deer meat ... they hardly ate in winter, they were sleepy We laughed and explained and showed him the skeins o silk and a finished piece of work from Old Gwin's lao loom. He understood and drew a picture of some smalle variety of spinner. Yet he had a horror of these harmles things. We brought him the largest one to stroke, the on called Momo or Cushion, and it was all he could do to plac: his hand on its soft hairy back and look at its sturd, spinnerets. His face was stiff with loathing, like Old Gwi come upon a pile of sharp knives beside a blazing fir( Narneen made Old Gwin's averting sign for Diver ... an he understood; we all laughed again. By the middle of the night, we were packed up; the tei was an empty shell with all our gear shrouded in its cente The weather was holding, just; a fine flurry of snow, but r wind. Old Gwin believed her prayers were being ai swered. We were wrapped and shod; Diver had a clo,, muffled over his suit and vest, and his boots were exceller Our heavy stuff-the folded loom boards, the work roll the wool sack-was packed onto the sled, and the way w ( 26 ) ( 27 ) clear. We stood in shelter, without light, while Brin and Mamor took down six panels of the tent. We would leave the other three between us and Hunter Geer as a shield. Roy was weaving a message skein; he gave me careful instructions. When the Family had passed through the break in the glebe wall and descended onto the track we had chosen, I, watching, would slip across to the Hunter's tent and leave the skein under the flap weight-stones. So I stood watching as they all went over the edge. I stole along, crunching a little on the snow and thinking of Whitewing. I got the skein down under the weights and was on my way free and clear when a terrible sound rang out. A hunting horn at the western gate! Torchlights! Armed vassals! I ran blindly into the ruin of our tent, fifty paces from the breach in the wall, across a clear expanse of snow, marked with the tracks of our Five. The party had entered the glebe; voices were raised-there was movement in Hunter Geer's tent, and movement too in the breach of the wall. I longed to cry out to my Family, urging them to stay back. When I thought I saw my chance, I dived across the snow. There was a cry; two vassals with spears came after me. I was hard held against a leather breastplate with the Strangler's device of three knots. I struggled, kicking and biting in blind panic. "It's no devil!" panted one vassal. "Just a child!" "Hold the brat!" said the other. We were halfway between the ruined tent and the open glebe. There was a frightening shout, and Diver came through the breach in the wall. He raised his hand, and a reddish beam glowed in it. The guard on my left was dashed into the snow. Again, with the same glow and crackle the other guard was struck, taking me down too. "Dorn!" It was Diver calling my name. I jumped up and ran to the breach in the wall. Mamor was with Diver, and he dragged me through; we went slithering and bouncing down to the track beyond. We did not wait to see what the search party made of Diver's attack; in fact it had been hidden from them. They would find two guards flattened, that was all. The Family was waiting, and with hardly a word we went down Hingstull at a breakneck pace. Old Gwin rode on Roy's back; Narneen was lying on top of the sled, like a package. We raced on down, driven by a rising wind, pressing through the cold scrub and the snow-filled hollows among the stones until at last Brin said: "We musi rest now." "A few paces more," said Mamor, whose track it was "This is Stone Brook. I have a cave." So we came to the cave, jolted and weary, and presse4 into it. We laid down the tent fabric and used the ligE sticks to help settle ourselves. Everyone was bone weaq Diver looked sick again and lolled against the wall of th cave. I did not dare ask him, or try to ask him, what w,, uppermost in my mind. Were the vassals dead? I askc Mamor, and he thought not ... the vassals were on knocked unconscious. I was still shaken by the thought ol weapon with so much power. Brin sat in our midst, as usual, resting her back ai drawing great breaths. "All right?" asked Roy. He was concerned for the hidd child; too much running could unsettle it. "Fine," said Brin. "This one will have an early showinj think." As if to answer her, the child whimpered. We took this as a sign of good fortune. Gwin twitched bi Brin's vented robe to let the air come to the child. Diver the light, had a look of extreme bewilderment. We m signs to him ... child ... rocking it in our arms, but still did not seem to comprehend. He signed or si "Where?" and we pointed to Brin and said, "There course," but he shook his head. The child whimpered again, and Brin had to reach di ( 28 ) I as mothers often did before the showing, to settle it to the teat. Diver's curiosity overcame him, and he crawled forward. "Well, you are our Luck," said Brin, smiling, 44so I will show you." "What's bothering the Diver?" asked Mamor. "Doesn't he know where children are nurtured?" "Perhaps his people are different," suggested Roy. "What difference could there be?" said Gwin. "Show the Luck quickly, so the child won't take cold." So Brin, in the magic light, let Diver look into her pouch and see the hidden child, settled into its milky sleep again. She had already given Narneen a look, and I remembered seeing Narneen before her showing. It as the av we were taught. Diver learned his lesson and drew back, shaking his head as if he had seen a miracle. He talked in his own language and laughed and shook his head and, for some reason, stroked his chest. Then he made signs to each of us in turn, and guessed, correctly as it happened, which we all were ... female or male. I was certain, by this time, that Diver was different from us in ways we could not imagine . . wavs that concerned both life and death Our link with him was frail, yet already there was trust between us. We turned back to the Diver and he to us after each revelation. He needed us, certainly; what could he do in an alien place, for all his magical devices, alone on a mountain with hunters out after him? We needed him too . . . although this might be harder for city folk to understand ... because he was our Luck and in spite of all his strange magic, not because of it. The bond that was woven was the simple Family bond that had brought all the Five together. Now Diver, whatever he was, had become part of it. Presently we lay down to sleep in our cave while the ( 29 snow came down. Next day it was so bad that both hunters and their quarry had to remain under cover. It was a holiday of sorts, because we could do no weaving. We sat and ate chocolate in the cave at Stone Brook, teaching Diver more and more new words, while he drew us pictures. ( 30 ) THERE IS A ROAD winding down under the cliff below Stone Brook. It meets up with the brook below the falls and leads down into Cullin, where the brook joins the great river, the Troon. On the third day we had made certain plans; Harper Roy and I set out for Cullin. We had come to a way down the cliff when we heard voices, a chant, drawing nearer on the road. The Harper looked through the snow- laden trees and whistled. "Diver must see this!" I ran to fetch the Luck from the cave, then we crouched out of sight as the party of armed vassals came singing and chanting down the road below us. They were carrying Diver's air ship between poles in a huge transport net. It must have been heavy, for it took twenty Moruians to carry it, but I was surprised to see that it was such a small thing. Its shape was like a rounded fish, and it was patchy silver in color. The light bounced off it as it rode in the net; there were streaks of charred blackness on its surface as if it had come from the fire Diver watched it go by and we watched him, doubtful, in case the sight of its capture might make him restless or sad. He watched the procession with narrowed eyes, then asked, "Where?" The Harper told him Cullin, the place we were bound for, to spy out the land. I took Diver's arm and ( 31 ) pointed again. A litter was being carried down after the air ship. A rich palanquin, with ruby-red hangings, quilted with white silk cord-a ridiculous carriage for the moun- tains. The crest was the one we had first seen, star and spindle, which Gwin named as Galtroy; but the vassals, most of them, had worn the crest of three knots. "Flitterling!" scoffed the Harper. "Some fancy-wor~ friend of Tiath Pentroy. That grand equipage will gei soaked if the bearers miss their footing." Diver wantec badly to go after his ship. He could speak enough now t( say "Follow ... follow . . ." I begged him not to leave us, holding his arm in case h, should scramble down the cliff. He exchanged glances wiC Harper Roy, the sort of glances grown-ups exchange ove the head of a child, and I felt foolish, but I knew he did n( mean to leave us. The Harper and I took him back to tE cave and we talked a great deal, quickly, about the mattei with poor Diver looking on and occasionally putting in word. "Danger . fussed Old Gwin, the Luck will I found ... the vassals will carry him off!" "Not so!" said Mamor. "You've bleached his hair, Gwi Muffle him up, he'll pass unheeded." "Our main object was to consult Beeth Ulgan in tl matter," said Harper Roy. "Why not present Diver to I in person? It would test a Diviner's art to describe c Luck." "Let him go with Dorn and Roy," said Brin. "Take 1 skein I wove to the Ulgan, Roy, and show her the Lu She has, besides wisdom, all kinds of secret knowled Beeth will know where the air ship travels." Diver smiled and kissed her hand. She put her hand his head ... bleached brownish-red by Old Gw whiteclay ... and reminded him of his bond. He firmed, solemnly, in the way he had, one hand on his cb one lifted, palm outward. This is because his pe( ( 32 ) consider the heart, in the left side of the chest as the organ of loyalty . . . while we swear with our heads and eyes, I Old Gwin, still fussing, made Diver,dress in moun a n clothes and leave off his blue suit. He would not be parted from his pocket vest, but with a gray tunic, fustian leggings and one of our enveloping frieze cloaks, with the black hood, he looked like a Moruian. His eyes and voice might give him away, but nothing else. Diver produced a pair of dark glass goggles, like the grandees wear in the snow, and Gwin drew out a blue knit scarf-mask and put it over the goggles. A tall weaver stood amongst us ... with maybe a t 11 f M: .4 Q ouc o snow n ness. o we were on our way again, less than an hour behind the carriers and the spriv, of Galtro in We kept up a good pace once we had reached the slippery surface of the road. The weather had been holding so wel for the past day that I began to believe, as I did every yea at that time, that we had turned the corner; the numberec days on Brin's skein were reaching towards the spring. Th Harper put a hand over his shoulder and struck a note o two to help with his singing. Then Diver began to sing, in sweet voice, quite different from his usual growl, and th( Harper tried to learn this foreign melody. It was the "Son of the Cheerful Walker" and Roy was just beginning to fit words to it, as he did later with many of Diver's songs. This is not so easy as it sounds, for though the notes of our two sorts of music are similar the beat of n"r r n cr%rtc n So we three went singing down the mountainside unti there was a strange cry and the Harper drew us up short. We came round a bend and the road ahead as block,-d great clump of snow. It had come from an overhanging and landed squarely on the palanquin. There was no sign of the vassals transporting the ship-they had gone blithely ahead leaving their noble travelling companion who knows how far behind. We rushed up and began digging with our bare hands. The Harper called out respectfully to reassure the en- tombed grandee. I began dragging out one of the bearers; Diver tried for another. Through a round hole, like a window in the snow, a penetrating voice ... two voices ... a whole pouchful of grandees besought our aid. It is strange that the more civilized our people become the louder they talk. "Easy!" said the Harper. "The roof of the litter is just holding." He managed to clear a space at the narrow end of the palanquin: he slashed the fine hanging with his knife and gently tamped down the snow to make a way out. Out they came, the pair of them: two fall personages, not much shaken by their ordeal. Their finery made me gape ... I had never seen such furs and jewels and leather work. I knew the fine silk-woven wool of their cloaks had brough, some weavers a year's food. The taller one wore a black travelling wig and snow goggles trimmed with brilliants. "Thank you, brave weavers, a thousand times ... Com along Tewl . . . where are those blistering wretches in th convoy ... Rilpo Rilproyan Galtroy!" This was accomp~ nied by a flourishing bow. The Harper bowed too. "Roy Brinroyan, called Tun gan, the Harper." Tewl was willowy, aristocratic, wit hair blonded at the crown and curled up at the edges. noticed the pallor of their skins, the movement of their lor hands, like birds. "Don't stare!" said Harper Roy. He helped drag n bearer clear; a sturdy vassal with a broken neck. Stoi dead. ( 34 ) The Harper said to the grandees, "This bearer has taker flight, Highnesses." I stood dismayed in the presence of death, but Rilpo anc Tewl knelt down in the snow examining the bearer tender ly. Hands fluttered, they talked aloud with no self. consciousness. Meanwhile Diver gave a muffled cry; his bearer was alive and unharmed. Diver and the Harper drew out the limp form, feeling for broken bones but finding none. The bearer was short and sturdy with that breadth of shoulder that vassals get in their heavy work. "Omor," said the Harper, "an empty one." "Is it?" I had never seen one. "Omor?" whispered Diver. The Harper and I were at a loss to explain but we tried; an empty one is a female who deliberately bears no children. There are none in the mountains; they are usually vassals of the grandees in the capital or mineworkers in Tsagul, the Fire-Town. They have a reputation for being very strong, and this seemed to prove it. "How is poor Tsammet?" inquired Tewl, striding round the heap of snow. "Living . . ." said Roy. To prove his point, the drenched omor took another heaving breath and sat up cursing. The name was a fiery one . . . with the hateful fire-sound of Ts . . . and Tsam- met had a blistering tongue. "Sorry Highness . she growled, "couldn't duck that one." "Glad you're alive, child," remarked Tewl. "Thank these mountain folk who were passing. Your stablemate Gwey was not so lucky." We helped Tsammet up, cursing sadly for the loss of the other bearer. "Thanks, gentle friends .she murmured. "Where's i ( 35 ) the flaming convoy?" She caught the Harper's eye. "Get my lieges out of this trouble. It'll be worth your while." "We'll help," said the Harper. "What's wrong with your big sib here?" she said, peering at Diver. "Don't it talk?" "Not much," I said. "Poor thing has a thread loose but quite gentle." "Help me Tsammet tried to walk, but an ankle buckled. "Flaming hot blistering sprain . . ." We helped Tsammet around the snow drift and all huddled there, grandees, two vassals, one dead, weavers and Diver, our newcomer, out of the rising wind. Rilpo, I saw, had folded the dead one's arms and laid a red mourning skein on the cold forehead. "Highness . said Harper Roy, "is there a convoy ahead?" "A long way ahead by now," said Rilpo. "Any sugges- tions? Fit us a tune to this perilous situation, Harper." "The child will run on down," said the Harper, who hac' already worked things out to suit our own perilous situa, tion. "Dorn can meet the convoy and send back strength to dig out the litter and bring down your lost bearer." "So far so good," said Rilpo. "I don't fancy a long wait ii the cold." "By no means," said Roy cheerfully, "but one of you Highnesses must take turns with the other at riding on m back. My sib, poor stupid Diver here, will carry Tsamme, your wounded dependant." "Fine! Fine!" Tewl clapped long hands. "Anything we need from tl litter, Rilpo?" "No!" cried the Harper. "Pray you . the thing ... it may collapse at any moment." "Ah well . . ." Tewl was dissuaded. "You're an idiot," said Rilpo fondly. ( 36 ) . . keep away fro d y s- ad a- to in our MY et, the f rorn ( 37 ) Diver drew me aside before the mounting up, and I did my best to explain the plan. One thing bothered him. Were Rilpo and Tewl male or female? I shook my head; frankly I had no idea. "Who cares? They're grandees." I looked again, as Rilpo helped Tewl mount on Harper Roy's back, and indeed it was hard to tell. No question here of a vented robe or a hidden child. Grandees were notorious for having more or less mating life than mountain folk ... Their adults were not called to the mating tents in the spring only. I solved the problem by asking Tsammet. The omor flared up, aiming a blow at my head. "Cheeky brat! Tewl is the Galtroy's female partner. They have a pair-family, city style. She has carried him two fine children, what more do you want!" Diver took some of this in, grinning. He knelt down, and I helped Tsammet onto his back. She weighed heavily, but he was equal to it. As I went scudding off on my errand,'I heard her say to him slowly, as if speaking to a child, "We've got a strange thing in the net, up ahead . . ." Then I was alone, running on down in the wind, with only the plaited-rope soles of my boots to keep me from slithering off into the valley. I ran and ran until I thought I must be nearly down the mountain, but there was no sign of the convoy. Then I paused, and over the side of the pass I saw the ship in the net far below, almost on the outskirts of Cullin. But the lack of the palanquin had been noticed; four vassals were toiling towards me up the next curve in the road. I hailed them, still out of breath, told the tale and handed over Rilpo's message skein. They were all hefty and stern, with three knots on their tunics; any one of them could have been a bravo who seized me, back in the glebe. Their manners improved when they read the skein, and they went on, cursing, to dig out the litter. I sat idle on the roadside, watching the roofs and tents of Cullin and the cloud shadows moving over the Great Plain. The river Troon, behind its broad groves, flashed gray as metal in the wintery light. Presently there came a sound of singing, and there they were: Rilpo riding now on Harper Roy, Tsam- met grinning from Diver's back and Tewl, striding along, strumming Roy's precious harp and singing an old moun- tain air, "Sweet Bird of the Snow". So we all went on down. I walked beside Tewl an~ looked my fill at a grandee. There was a gaiety, a brightnes, about Tewl and Rilpo that was all of a piece with thei finery. I could almost understand serving such persons being a loyal vassal like Tsammet. I had an impulse to trus them, to ask Diver to trust them and tell his story and shoN them his magic and reveal his knowledge of the air ship But I kept these dangerous thoughts to myself, and w came at last, in the darkness before the rising of the secon sun, to the riverbank outside the town. The Troon rises on the west face of Hingstull and passo through great falls and caverns, so that it is a sizeable rivo when it curls round the mountain's base and is joined I the Stone Brook. Then, beyond the joining place, it curv, through the town and on into the Great Plain. We saw t] convoy with the air ship in its net, drawn up on the Troi bank where the two waters meet. There was a paddle bar ready and a smaller passenger boat. As we made our way the riverbank, the vassals in charge of the convoy w( preparing to load the ship on the barge. Diver was able to set down Tsammet at the landi stage, and all of us pressed closer to watch the loading. I sooner was the air ship laid on the barge than it was covei with vast sheets of canvas and bound with ropes into a gr bundle of ordinary merchandise. "Secrecy," whispered Harper Roy. "Tiath Gargan i not have it borne through Cullin." Diver was restless tense, but he made no move. ( 38 ) d s S, st w jp. we nd sses iver by rves the roon arge ay to were No ered a great gan will tiess and Rilpo Galtroy, who had been speaking to the vassals, drew us all aside. "Friends . . ." he said "I must cha you all-explain it to your quiet sib if you can-never speak of what you have seen here." "You mean that vessel?" asked Harper Roy. "Where does it come from, Highness?" Rilpo and Tewl became still and silent. "You read those crests," said Tewl. "The Great Elder has expressed a particular need for silence. "I will say this," put in Rilpo carefully. "It is believed that a foreian race has flown from the void and made a nest in the islands." "But we charge you most solemnly ." Tewl's eves were luminous in the dusk. "Say nothing even to your nearest kin. Do not betray our trust." "Believe me, Highnesses," murmured Harper Roy, "I speak for us all and sav we will not breathe one ord out of Dlace in this matter." "Highness . . ." I plucked Tewl gently by the mantle. "Is it not possible that a foreign race might be our friends? They may resemble us in form? They may pass among us and join with us, like Moruians indeed?" "I pray it may be so, dear child," said Tewl. Her voice was sweet and brittle. She took from her finger a little ring of silver, made like a rope, with a blue brilliant on the knot, and slipped it onto my finger. I blushed and kissed her cool hand, Rilpo smiled. "Come, you have saved our hves and stiNta us immensely. We can't repay that kind of service. I have had my eye on this poor fellow Diver, your sib. He is very strong, though simple in the head. I think Tsammet likes him. Let us pay you a consideration for his first year's wages and let him be our Luck and come with us to Rintoul." ves cried Tewl. "Sweet Rilno . . . you nave such kind ideas. Let Diver be our Luck. We had a deai Luck, a dwarf, but she died, poor creature." "Highness," said Harper Roy, "we would not disobligi you for the world, but in truth and according to bond wi cannot part with Diver. He is our Luck, signed and sealed. "Too bad," said Rilpo. "What Family? Brin's Five? Well so be it. I am sure he is most valuable." He reached into the furry sleeves of his tunic an produced, carelessly, a handful of pure silver credits an gave them to me, filling my cupped hands. It w,. politeness-giving the child a present rather than tippir the adult. So they parted from us and joined the vassals Tiath Pentroy. The giant paddle wheel, turned by t( heavers in the bow, began to churn the dark water, and t) barge with its shrouded cargo moved slowly from shor Tsammet had been helped aboard the smaller travellii boat, and now the grandees joined her. The two vessels moved on downriver, and we were li on the shore, wrapped in our cloaks. Diver bared his fa, we laughed together, rather shakily. "Danger!" said Harper Roy. Diver understood. "It is not over yet . . ." he said. In the light of Esder,, Far Sun, newly risen and moving towards its fullnesq detachment of Pentroy vassals were marching on ahead us into Cullin. "We must seek guidance," said Harper Roy. "Be Ulgan will help us." It was a cold evening, and I was sorry we could not i any of our usual haunts. There were blood kin and gi neighbors wintering in their warm tents on the slopes al: f'he - down over river. We went looldng for a meal in the broad, s, streets of Cullin, between the fixed houses. The tall I C~t xkxe e- kmvq ~n curv'mv . krMs Ok 'On'ska '01-1 -4 MVM~, d s 9 of n e re. ng left ace; . the ss, a d of eeth t visit glebe above er the swept I house d bent other the main wharf and "Vanuyu" or the House of the Four Winds. This is a hunting lodge built by some Pentroy ages ago on the river before the weavers bought out the land and gained the title for a free town. Vanuyu is a beautiful house-for years the only fixed house I believed could be beautiful-and it is built partly of brick, with curtain walls of plaster to either wing. It is inhabited by some of our town grandees or climbing weavers-the Wharf Steward and the Fair Caller and their Fives. We showed these wonders to Diver by the bright light of Esder, and I was impressed, as always, by the lights used in the town ... candles, oil lamps, rush-lights, for the townees are far less chary of fire than mountain folk. But it was still cold; we pulled into one food shop by the wharf and found it full of Pentroy vassals guzzling bowls of hot tipsy-mash. We moved on to another, near the open circle, where we smuggled Diver into a dark corner, back of the steaming cook Dots, and HarDer doled me out a credit to buy our supper. We ate delicious, hot tipsy-mash and venison stew with flour dumplings, real town food, in glazed earthenware dishes that had been hardened in fire. The spoons had metal bowls, but the handles were safe wooden ones, to cheer up superstitious country visitors. "How do vou like our to n?" e asked Diver. "Good!" he said. "A town." We were i)leased. "Like the towns in your land?" asked the Harper, slyly. "Like the towns in my land ... long ago." "Never fear," I said, "wait until you see Rintoul." "Ah, Rintoul . . ." sighed the Harper. "The Golden Net of the World!" "My ship goes to Rintoul." "Diver . . ." I was bold now, with the warmth of th shop and the tipsy-mash rising into my head. "Are ther "Yes ... but not Family." Diver tried to explaii "Friends, workers ... helpers." "How many?" asked Harper Roy. "Three and myself. They will think me dead," sa Diver solemnly. "Females and males?" I thought of the strange shape the female creatures in his drawings. "Will you make Family?" "Two males, two females," he replied sadly. "We cai as scholars. To see what lived, what could breathe ... Torin." Then a drunken townee from the front of the cook-sh saw Roy's harp and called for a song. He moved am cheerfully, leaving us in shadow, and began to si sweetly as ever, a whole string of his mountain melodie sat in the gloom, at Diver's side, growing warm and slee The shop was no more than half-full with townees some travelling Families; suddenly there was some sor commotion by the round doorway that looked out on circle. The Harper finished abruptly; customers v making a move. I stiffened, thinking of Pentroy vas! then I heard the jingle of shell-bracelets and the thu dancing feet. "Twirlers!" I whispered to Diver. The shop emptied quickly; even the cook downed 12 and ran out. I gulped down my food and tumbled out the dark street after Roy and Diver. A blue flame shot i the center of the grassy circle-Twirlers' Fire. It is a, harmless flame, so they say, but it was flame enoul send a thrill through the crowd. The Leader stood ii midst of the circle, beside the flax-bound stake hissing blue fire. A tall figure, brown and twisted like a bt tree, painted with clay and naked except for a long cl( blue rag-bunches. Around the circle there danced fifteen others, thumping the ground rhythmically their heels, between leaping and prancing. The bracelets on their wrists clashed and jingled and caug ( 42 ) f a e n p ay 91 . I Y. nd t of the ere als, d of dles into in oll to n the with urned p co gh oak of ten, with shell- ht the blue and bro n. light of the fire. Their blue rags were spattered with mud they were sweating, and the dark streaks on their skin might already have been blood. The twirlers' shell- bracelets are sharp and they cut their flesh as they dance, until the blood runs down. Every so often one dancer would advance into the circle and twirl on the spot, slowly at first, then faster and faster, unbearably fast, until there was a thin blurring column of "Trouble!" whispered Roy, as we stood in the shadows. "Time we went to the Ulgan's house." The twirlers had drawn a crowd, even in winter. One or two of the Watch, employed by the Town Five, were lounging about with their staves, not expecting trouble. But the Pentroy vassals could be seen too, pushing their way through the quiet, hooded, clustering crowd. None came our way, and we did not make a ove One by one the twirlers dropped to the grass like wounded birds, and the Leader, who had twirled and gestured close to the burning stake, began to cry out. "Avert!" The twirlers, in ecstasy on the bruised grass, took up the c in echoing tones. "Avert! Avert! Avert!" "Avert the emon!" Again the shout went round. "Avert the Demon who comes from the void ... who flies on Hingstull who flies in the night, encased in metal . . . with claws for hands!" The crowd hissed with fear. The Pentroy vassals, I saw, had an officer, a grim figure in a leather mask-helmet, who was drawing them together "Avaunt!" screamed the twirlers. "Devil came down! Descended on Cullin! The devilish Silver Ship was shipped through the town! Here! Where is the Devil! The Devil! The Devil! The Demon with claws! The Devil is here!" The Leader's voice was high and chilling; I wondered, ( 43 how did the twirlers know? I shivered and clutched Diver's arm, to reassure myself that he was no devil. Roy led the way through the edges of the crowd, heading for Sidestreei Four, where Beeth Ulgan's house stood. Suddenly the Pentroy officer made a booming blast or his roarer and the vassals moved in. The twirlers, disturbe( in ecstasy, fought and screamed like mad things. A pani spread among the poor wintry citizens; a few ran to help th twirlers or beat feebly at the vassals who were hustlin them out of the way. The burly members of the Tow Watch waded into the fray, striking-I saw-mainly , vassals and calling aloud for the townees to clear the street Through an opening in the crowd came two vassa struggling with a poor naked twirler, wide-eyed ar streaked with blood. I tried to dive out of the way, but movement of the crowd bore me to the ground. I rememb flailing about and screaming like a twirler myself befc Diver hauled me up again. We tried to continue on c way, but the vassals and their prisoner were behind i pressine avainst the frightened, angry bystanders. Some them, including the Harper, set up a shout. "Let the twirler go! Shame! Set down the spirit warri Out Pentroy! To ' blazes with the vassals!" The vassals came on, grim-faced. "They'll dump the twirler in Street Four," said Harper, in my ear. We struggled out of their path; when the crowd drew back, we followed the vassals their shrieking burden into the dark mouth of the stre, Diver had taken the lead. My heart was poundin thought I knew what he was about to do, but I was wri He had no need for a weapon. When we were out of sig) the crowd, he threw back his cloak and downed one o vassals. Diver had an extraordinary way of fighting. I seen no one to match him save Blacklock himself. chopped the vassal across the back of the neck with th( of his hand, and the creature dropped like a stone. ( 44 ) n t S. Is d a er re ur us, of lorl the and and eet. ng; rong. ght of of the I have if. He e side "One for you!" he shouted to Harper Roy. The Harper, nothing loath, did a hip roll on the other. got into position, crying, "Tree trunk," and together we took the staggering vassal by the arms and ran it headfirst into the nearest wall. The tree trunk, which is the oldest mountain wrestling trick in the skein, works even better in a town, there are so many walls. I was trembling with excitement and fear; the experience of using the tree trunk to bring down a person, instead of practicing it in sport and stopping long before the head hit the tree, was too much for Me. We turned to the twirler, who was propped upright against a wall. The Harper moved in, uttering soothing words but the twirler was still mad. A hand laid on the sbivering brown arm caused more shrieks more kicking. Alreadv the mouth of the street was full of townees. "Come on!" said Diver. He seized the slight figure of the twirler, trying to inion those flailin arms and sharp shells. "Quiet!" he said in his clumsy Moruian. For an instant the torchlight rested on Diver's face: then with one shriek-at the sight of those blue eyes-the twirler fainted away. Diver hoisted the limp body, and we ran off into the shadows. Round two corners, with the sound of the riot fading, and Harper Roy was hammering on the door of Beeth Ulgan's house, beside the weathermaker's shuttered booth. We stood shivering until a deet) voice answered. whoe "Brin's Five"' cried the Harper. "Dear Ulgan, open to friends in need!" There was the sound of the door-pole being hastily drawn, and on the threshold in the dim light stood the tall, sagging figure of the Diviner. "Great North Wind!" cried Beeth Ulgan. "Harpe "Refuge we pray panted the Harper. "Pentro3 vassals . . ." "I'm not surprised. Come in." We pressed on into the house, where it was beautifull, warm, warm as a proper tent. The outer room had a met" stove that scared Old Gwin to death when we visite~ Beside it lay the Ulgan's apprentice, a young townee, male, not much older than myself. Diver laid down h burden on a pile of mats in a corner, and the apprenti4 went over curiously to attend to the twirler. The Ulgan held up a candlecone. "Let me look you ... What have you got there ... a wounded twirle And an outclip? An extra member for Brin's Five? Win forbid! How's Brin? How's the hidden child? How Eddorn Brinroyan?" "Odd-Eye is dead," said Harper Roy, standing likc child, with bent head, before the Ulgan. "Alas . . ." Beeth Ulgan stood clutching the candlecc and murmured a prayer of departure. The Diviner surprised me every time I beheld her. Fc start she was fat, the only fat person I ever beheld before went to Otolor and to Rintoul, and she was also very t Beeth Ulgan had a long, drooping face, very smooth s brown, with thick handfuls of white hair, plaited into gi curtains and baskets around the head. The Diviner's r was of soft wool, of our own weaving, thickly embroidej with loose sleeves full of magical trinkets, sweets and i and message skeins. "You come in sad time," she said, laying a gentle han4 my head, "but I must ask you again. Has my old teact prophecy been fulfilled? How is the destiny of Brin!s Fi "You have asked that question for years now," said I "and at last I have an answer for you . . ." "We are blessed with a new Luck . . ." I babbled. "Hush!" said Harper Roy, pressing Brin's message s into the Diviner's hand. ( 46 ) stepped forward. t s s a e r a we 11. nd eat obe ed, uts d on her's ive?17 Roy, skein "Beeth Ulgan, you were ever our friend and guide. What we show must be secret-" "Secrets?" The hooded eyes flashed in the dim light; Beeth UlLyan stared at the Harper as she fingered the message skein. "Diver," said Harper Rov. Diver, rearranged in his cloak "New Luck. - - " whispered Beeth, "from Hingstull. Oh great earth and sky!" She seized Diver's hand and led us all into the inner room, a wonderful bright place, full of tapestries and cushions. Diver stood erect before her, and his hood fell back. We had lived too much in shadow. Now the bright light of a dozen candlecones and two lanterns showed Diver for what he was. Utterly strange, a creature of essential difference, bred in the body's weft. By comparison the grandees, whose fine trappings had made me gape, were like our very blood kin. A pale face, blunt-featured, a round head, curling hair with its true darkness still visible at the nape of the strong neck. Keen, round, frontal eyes of bright blue. Beeth Ulgan drew breath steadily, holding Diver's gaze. "Who ... what ... are vou?" she demanded. "What sort of being do you call yourself?" And Diver answered formally. "I am a man. My name is it It was an odd formula we had worked out while teaching him our language. Diver went on to repeat his identification in his own tongue. By now I recognized it pretty well. The learning went in two wavs-we all had a few words of his Scott Gale." Where do you come from?" "From another world." "Scott Gale 20496 Lieutenant Navigator, World Space Service/Satellite Station Terra-Sol XNV34 Biosurvev Beeth Ulgan peered heavily at Diver. Finally she turned away, shaking her grand loops of hair as she flicked througl a bundle of silk scrolls and fixed one on the rack. I could se( that it was a chart of some kind, finely woven, like all thi Diviner's scrolls, and overstitched in black thread on th( cream and gold body of the work. Diver stepped close an( looked very hard, turning his head to find a direction. Thei he pointed. I saw with a thump of excitement that it was star chart with the constellations traced out in black, an, red points inwoven for the stars themselves. There was the Sun and the Far Sun. There were tE sibling worlds of Torin: Derin or Far-World and the twh Thune and Tholen and the strange distant world that v called Derindar, Even-Further-World, but which astron, mers call Veer. Beyond our web of worlds were tI constellations: Eenath, the spirit warrior, with her bo, Vano, the great bird; the Spindle; and the Box-Har There was the great constellation of the Loom; Diver hi pointed to a star in the loom bench, where the great wea,. sits. He brought out a chart of his own and other objects fr( his pocket vest and laid them on the Diviner's worktab Beeth Ulgan examined everything with an intense conc4 tration, poised over the worktable with a solemn face o hands hovering, as if she were working a conjuration some grandee. Roy stood by and acted as interpret although Diver used the words that he had pretty well. displayed and demonstrated his wonders; we knew som, them already. There was the flat box, no bigger than palm of my hand, that tells again what is spoken int( There was a thin, fine apparatus like a silkbeam ... Diver was surprised in his turn when the Ulgan sho, him a box of silkbeam copies. There was the terrible weapon that he had turned or Pentroy vassals in our glebe. He aimed it at a tall vase, a 4~ringed, but the vase toppled gently onto a cushion ... power of the thing could be altered from a stunning blo ( 48 ) a feather touch. There were the lightsticks and a set of metal tools and the tiny buzzer that Diver used to shave his face and something called a recharger to make all the marvellous engines well again when their power dimin- ished. While the Ulgan marvelled at all these things, Diver asked for a map of Torin, and she gave him a colored "Fortune Map" on good willow paper, the kind she had made up by the printmaker two doors away, to sell in her booth. He stared at it sadly and compared it with a map of his own. Then Beeth Ulgan produced larger maps, one on silk, one on parchment, but on these maps also the islands were no clearer, and the distances, though vague, were just as great. The Diviner looked at Diver's map and shook her head. "As I thought," she said. "We know nothing about the islands." The islands on her maps, beyond the western edge of the land of Torin, were huge patches of green, coastlines unfinished or fantastically drawn into bays and sounds. On the old silk map there were the sea sunners, giant water beasts embroidered, and strange beasts on land too. There were five mountains breathing red fire that had split the world asunder in ancient times. Diver could still hazard a guess. He pointed on all the maps to a place on the largest island, the one called Tsabeggan or Nearest Fire. There were his people-three of his own kind-and they might as well have been on a distant star. Whatever way he chose to reach them-and by contrast the land of Torin, with its plain and rivers and mountains and the desert, was all finely mapped-he must cross a continent and sail the ocean sea. He turned to Beeth Ulgan with a look of despair and spread his hands in a gesture that said plainly, "What shall I do-," The Diviner took one of his hands and looked at the palm lines, then turned it away from her, as if it were a scroll in a ( 49 ) e d er In le. n- nd for ter, He e of the o A. and wed n the and I . the ow to strange tongue that she found too fascinating. "Are your people safe in the islands?" "Yes.77 "Is their tent strong?" "Yes. "Is there food and water?" 77 "Yes. "Are you the leader of this Family?" "No." "Have they another air ship?" "Yes, a larger one." "Then they will come seeking you!" "No," said Diver sadly. He explained, and finally we grasped his meaning. His people must follow certain rules; they could search around the camp and the sea nearby, but the larger air ship was of no use in the search. It was not an air vessel at all, but a ship for the void where there is no air. It was for taking the man Family back to the space station or larger sky town around Derin. Diver explained that he had done his people a terrible wrong in depriving them of his little ship, which went in the air or out of it, and was meant for short journeys. His people must continue their scholarly tasks, testing the air, numbering the flowers and the creatures, until their time of two hundred days had elapsed and they would return to the space station. I found it difficult to believe that they would obey such harsh rules; surely they would continue searching for him and go further afield. His instructions were equally harsh and plain: if he could not return to the party, he must shih for himself. Beeth Ulgan stared keenly at Diver. "Your people havi flown around Torin. You must know there are cities." IJ Diver nodded. They had reports of inhabited placei made some time ago from a great distance. But his peoplo ... the Biosurvey Team ... were not envoys; their, dq was only to discover how well man might live on Torin. ( so ) es; )ut ~ an air . :ion ' he n of was -heir and had such - him harsh : shift have places people ir duty . I orin. Harper Roy laughed aloud. "Great North Wind! You have nicked a bad soot. The islands are choking hot, full of fever and Doison stings." "Perhaps that's another Diviner's tale," grinned Beeth Ulgan. Diver smiled and sawed his hand as if to say, "more or less". "It's hot." "Are you under rule not to find other beings?" asked Beeth. Again Diver sawed the air. "I flew too far," he admitted sadly. "I hoped, always, to find ... others. The ship failed on my second journey." Beeth Ulgan was pacing now, with her long hands pressed together in an attitude of thought. "Escott Garl Brinroyan," she said formally, translating the name or at least making it easier to pronounce, "what have you in mind?" "To find my ship." "Will it fly again?" "Maybe not," said Diver, "but it has 'radio', to speak with mv friends in the islands." "Ha!" said Beeth "I think this maoic is kno n here. It resembles the voice-wire." "The voice-wire is forbidden in Rintoul," said Harper Roy. "Still used in the Fire-Town," said the Ulgan, "and I could do with one now, though the winds know it would take a long wire to reach from here to Rintoul. Ho does your speaking device work Diver?" "The words travel throuLh the air . . . no wire is need- ed " the way to Rintoul. The Ulgan held up her hands as if she would cry out all "Oh, these things will be known!" she cried triumphant- ly. "This will indeed be what the charts proclaim . . . a three comet year. There are others; there is a great one in Rintoul who must know these things." ( 51 ) "The Great Elder?" asked Diver innocently. "Should go to Tiath Pentroy? To the Elders in Rintoul?" For the first time Beeth Ulgan made an averting sign "No! Winds forbid!" "Why not?" "It might mean your life and the life of Brin's Five." "This Elder would take our lives?" "If he could do it secretly," said Beeth Ulgan. Harper Roy protested. "Even the Great Elder is bonr by law; he must follow the old threads. . . ." "That's true," said Beeth, "but very often he may wea, those threads in his pattern." "But why kill us?" burst out Diver. "From fear? W1 should he fear a lone man? I come in peace. Why shou this grandee kill a stranger when simple folk have shown x nothing but kindness and love ... when Brin's Five I adopted me without a trace of fear?" "You bring power and skill!" said the Ulgan. "You bri fire-metal-magic. We might have had all these thij ourselves from Tsagul, long ago. But the Elders, the cla will brook no change in their power. They cannot see way the world must go." Diver studied the maps and traced on one the cours( the river Datse down to the sea. "Should I go to Tsagx he asked. "No!" said Beeth Ulgan sharply. "If you found frie there, it would split the world like the blast of a I mountain." "Besides," said Harper Roy, "it is a bleak place. Mai was there once and did a stint in the mines. Mountain do not care for the place." "Do not be too sure, Roy Brinroyan," smiled the Di er. "There may be one of your kin well-known in Fire-Town." The Harper shook his head and began numberi~g ouj on his fingers. ( 52 ) 4v~ Y Id C as ng gs of P?v nds re- mor folk 53 ) "No," pronounced Beeth Ulgan, "be ruled by me, Diver. Go with Brin's Five, be patient." "Where shall we go?" I asked. "To my fixed house at Whiterock Fold," she said. "And my own barge will take you all downriver." "Very well," said Diver, "if Brin will go there ... if it serves all the Five well . . ." "There is one in Rintoul who will weave all these threads into a safe web," said the Diviner. "But who, Beeth Ulgan?" I cried. "Who will save us? Who is more powerful than Strangler Tiath? Is it ... is it Blacklock?" Beeth Ulgan laughed aloud. "Well, you are not far wrong, child. I will not say the name, but it is the one who gives Blacklock-young Murno Pentroy-his wings to fly with." I had to be satisfied with this. In fact it was many days before any of us heard the name she would not utter ... but from this time we were aware of the presence of this subtle magician, this Maker of Engines. Beeth Ulgan clapped her hands and went bustling into the other room again. "There is much to be done!" We followed and found her kneeling beside the twirler. The apprentice had sponged down the poor creature and covered the thin body with a blanket, but still it had not awakened. "What are the twirlers?" Diver asked softly. "Outcasts," said Beeth Ulgan, "vagabonds. They fly from a sad fate that haunts all Moruians. Do you know what that is?" Diver shook his head. "To be alone . . ." said Harper Roy, making an averting sign. "How is it with your people, Diver?" "Some bear it pretty well," he replied. I was stricken with fear in case poor Diver felt alone far from his own people. It was such a dreadful thing. "Cheer up!" I whispered. "You ITM a Family." I know it!" he said, smiling. Beeth Ulgan was stroking the MM of the twirler in a certain pattern; the apprentice ausibiblilMd beside her, watch- ing keenly. "Our legends tell of a few spirits, neither good nor bad, who lived among the Moruia,' she said. "Name us some names, Dorn. Show your oisiOoMr's loom teaching." "Eenath, Vuruno, Ullo and Telve . . ." I parroted game- ly. "All were great spirit warriors and made Families with the clans long ago. Eenath for VToMily, Vuruno for Doh- troy, Ullo and Telve for Tsatroy, RoM, fire-clan that is nc more." "Good child!" smiled the Ulgan. "rhe legend tells thai these spirit warriors, especially 91 MM, still inspire thes( twirlers. A Leader, once inspired, fthers poor outcast into a skein. Those whose Families - I ave been broken b: death or misfortune, runaway vassals, disgruntled townee or miners. They roam about begging alms and doing thei spirit dance. Simple folk are kind to 4~em." "What will you do with this one?" asked Harper Roy. "I must put the poor wretch to use, "sighed the Ulgan. " know the Leader of this twirling band. He's a wily one, wh plays politics." She motioned us~ back behind the zurtains of the inn( room and, raising her arms, began a crooning chant. TI apprentice, who divined her will, mok over stroking ti twirler's face. Presently the twirler --e-it bolt upright, and saw that it was a female, no older qo%n Brin, but scarr( and undernourished. As the Ulgan -wooned, all the har, lines left the poor face and the twirler spoke its name, likc sleeper. "Mooneen uto Vilroyan. kyj M#neen, once of Vi Five. Now roaming with the spirit .v--Lrriors." "Your Leader?" asked Beeth AIM "Petsalee, Host of Spirits." "You will bear this message to the Leader, with a gift silver," pursued the Ulgan. ( 54 ) d us e- ith oh- no casts n by nees their Diviner. oy. an. e, who inner t. The ing the t, and I scarred e harsh e, like a of Vil's a gift Of "Surely . . ." sighed Mooneen, in the same eerie tone. The Diviner spoke quickly and earnestly: "Tell Petsalee that he will earn praise and riches from the Maker of Engines if he goes straight downriver and plays all towns and villages between here and Otolor. The burden of his teaching shall be: no devil came down from the void but a true spirit warrior, who will bring glory and peace and honor to the land of Torin." Diver could not follow all this; but as I peered from the light into the darkness, I was struck by the cunning of the When the twirler knew the message, she was awakened. We saw her dressed in a cloak and given silver, then sent out into the night-light. Beeth Ulgan called us back and for the first time introduced the apprentice, whose name was Gordo Beethan-Gordo, Beeth's helper. No Five name, or if he had one he did not use it. Again, I wondered about living with a teacher instead of a Family. The Ulgan was explaining: "Gordo is a Witness," she said. "The only one registered in Cullin. Ask Diver if such thinj exist in his knowledge. We had already tried to explain this way of sending messages to Diver. He understood fairly well what we meant but seemed to doubt if it would work. He admitted he was thought-blind himself but not all his folk were so. A few had the power to link minds. He asked now, could it be shown? The Ulgan could not do it. "One must believe," she said. Gordo looked smug; he valued his powers. I was sleepy and iealous. I will link minds with the Witness," said Beeth Ulgan. "Then, when he calls, far off, at an appointed time, I hear and speak through him, while he is entranced. His hearers hear me sneak." At that moment there came a musical rapping sound from deep inside the house; Beeth Ulgan's big silk and wood clock was striking in her clock room. Long before it echoing wooden notes had died away, Diver knew whal engine it was and asked to be shown. The clock made m( sleepier than ever; I had lost all the hours of total darkness which the mountain folk use for their best sleep; the Fa' Sun had been hours in the sky. The apprentice, Gordo began curling up by the stove in the outer room in an ol, blue sleeping bag that might have been one of our ow weave, for we supplied the Ulgan with much of ht furnishing. I went back into the inner room and fell aslee on the fine cushions. Suddenly I was wide awake; Harper Roy had gone. I fc a stab of alarm although the place was warm and beautifi I was alone. Then I heard a murmur of voices and s2 Diver, quite close, talking with the Ulgan. One of P Family was there ... I was safe. The Harper, I knew, h, gone to fetch the others from the cave at Stone Brook; th would join the Ulgan's barge outside the town at the ri, junction, according to the plans we had made. So I wo back to sleep and half woke, once or twice, to hear Di and Beeth Ulgan talking away, companionably, about st and engines, like two ancients, yarning over their 12 looms at a spring fair. The two suns were shining and the sky was so clear it seemed to stretch all the way to Rintoul. The cold ate our bones as we crouched on the wharf; the weather clear and cool as the Ulgan had predicted. We shivere our cloaks and waited, behind a stack of wool bales: E and Dorn, alone. The wharf was not busy. We had seen Petsalee, Leader of the twirlers, bundling his b& gled flock into a shabby old bird-boat, all lime and cages, for the journey downriver. The Pentroy officer there and a couple of vassals to hustle the twirlers o, town. Now these vassals hung about, two huqdred ( 56 ) re its away, chewing bara seeds against the cold and spitting out what the rinds. e me There was a step, and Gordo loomed up beside us. He ness, spoke without looking down. "Barge coming. Be ready." e Far There was a churning of water and the Ulgan's barge, a ordo, cheerful, flat-bottomed fool of a boat, painted in bright n old colors, swung slowly up to the wharf. Diver, struggling own with his cloak, muttered, "Hope this works." f her "Have no fear," said Gordo. He stared at me boldly and asleep said: "Are you strong enough, hill-child?" "Strong enough to break your magical head!" I snapped. I felt Gordo and I picked up the prepared bale, which weighed ut,ful; as much as a tree trunk, and walked towards the barge. Far d saw to my left I saw the vassals staring; I concentrated on my of my load. Then, just as I was sure they were coming to , had investigate, Beeth Ulgan in a gorgeous robe strolled onto k; they the wharf with an entourage of town grandees. This party e river captured everyone's attention, Gordo was on the low I went gangplank, so was 1; the load was crushing me to death, but r Diver I breathed out hard and lasted until the clear deck space was ut stars reached. The wool bale lay at our feet, and the muscles of ir lace- my legs were twitching with relief. Gordo grinned; he did not seem such a bad fellow. "Good luck!" he said. "See you at the Spring Fair." lear that I sat down on the deck, and he skipped back onto the ate into wharf. He flicked up the gangplank and shoved it aboard. er was The barge heaver, a sturdy figure in a checked sailor's vered in hood, pushed off with the pole and went back to working s: Diver the paddle wheel. Beeth Ulgan raised her staff in a gesture had just of farewell, and I managed to wave back politely, like her bedrag- deckhand. The barge swung out onto the broad blue gray and old waters of the Troon and went slowly, easily, towards the cer was south. I sat there feeling for the first time the sensation of rs out of floating on water in a boat. The water spread between the dred feet barge and the wharf; there was a sundering, a breaking of ( 57 ) I ordinary ties. The figures of the Pentroy vassals looke smaller already. Then, with a slight curve of the bank, tf houses hid the wharf from view. The flap of the stern tent flew up, and I was embraced c all sides. There they were ... Brin, Old Gwin, the Hari er, Narneen dancing about like a mad thing. Diver crawl( out of the wool bale. We stood all together on the deck ar shouted with triumph. The Great Sun blazed in the eaE and the Far Sun shone overhead; we were setting out on oi journey under a clear sky. "But where ... ?" I cried. "Here, of course!" said a familiar voice. The barge heav threw back his hood, and it was Mamor. ( 58 ) IS BRIN SET UP MY ENEMY, the mat-loom, on the open deck, but I doubt if I completed ten rows of leaf pattern in all the time we went downriver. It was just so good, so new, to be moving on the water. I fell into my sleeping bag the moment Esto went down and woke early, with Esder's thin light silvering the broad stream. Mamor let me be tillergrip; Diver and Brin took turns at the paddle wheel. Old Gwin and the Harper turned to and washed our linen as if it were already spring. We were travelling light: most of our new work had been left in the cave at Stone Brook for Beeth Ulgan's factors to collect and market. Narneen sat in the stern catching fat water flies for our spinners and chasing the flatbills from our fishing nets with a green branch. Down in the city I have seen plenty of tame flatbills in ponds and watergardens fed every day on cultured worms. But they cannot match the marvellous wild creatures who live in the Troon north of Otolor. The big ones, the Totofee, are golden brown with dull green webs; they roll and play and chase each other from morning to night. They thought nothing of taking locusts from our fingers over the side or chasing across the deck, two or three at a time, with a peculiar snuffling noise from their broad bills and their tails slapping on the boards. Then there are two smaller varieties, the common Narfee and the striped Utonar. 'A saw them swimming in lines, their heads just breaking tf surface of the water. Diver came across the box of wood paints for decoratir the barge and painted a frieze of flatbills on the lid of t cargo locker. His artwork was to spread over the face Torin too quickly for our safety. It must have been abo this time that one of the townees in Cullin found h drawings in the cave at Stone Brook and had them copie( with notes in Brin's own written script. Perhaps Beet Ulgan had a hand in this; she has never denied it. Mamor was the only one of our Five accustomed to boat he was the child of river people, far away on the Datse, tb river that leads to the Fire-Town. On the second day b and Diver broke out the mast from its long slot on the dec and raised sail. The barge lumbered along faster, but it wa very clumsy. It was a matter of watching for channels shoving off from banks and shoals, shouting a warning ~ other craft; there were not many at this time of year. W, passed villages and hamlets on either bank where we h~ made spring and summer camps in other years. What - pleasant thing to sail past a track you trudged on, 0~ before. Diver sat with me at the tiller, and we saw a herd wool-deer, outside Nedlor, where the banks rise up al there is a hanging bridge over the river. The shepherdi were having a hard time cramming the silly creatures i4 their high-walled fold. Every so often a wool-deer broke free and went leaping and bounding to the edge of the, C overlooking the river. Then the shepherds moved in Wi their catch-nets on long flexible poles and brought straggler in by catching its "hands" and its strong tail. Ci, wool-deer were unshorn; their coats become so thick ly can sink an arm up to the elbow in the lovely fleece. T was a herd of pied cross-breds, and their colors were blA white and tan. Diver laughed and told me some more a~j ( 60 ) f is th ts; e he eck was els, 9 to We had at a once rd of p and herds es into broke he cliff in with ght the il. The ick you ce. This a strange place on his world where the wool-deer leap about with no wool and the fleece comes from a more docile species. It was that same day, in the evening, as I rode in the bow, going tillergrip for Mamor, I spotted a boat ahead of us. It moved oddlv in the ater "What is the matter with that craft?" I asked Mamor "Stuck on a sandbank!" We were under sail, so he had Brin reef it in a little as we steered closer. The river was broad and shadowy at this point, with a clear, deep channel between two bars of sand so high and dry they were like islands. The water flowed swiftly through the channel, and I fought with the tiller. The stranded boat was not a barae but a keel-boat, old and brown. It was caught up by the stem, and the bow swung free in the channel. As it moved, the keel scraped from side to side across the bar. Mamor hailed and hailed avain but there ere no siuns of life. I caught sight of Narneen, crouched by the door of our tent, hands to her mouth in fear. I shared her fear; there was something dreadful about the ouiet old shell of a boat, swinging lifeless on the bar. "Dorn!" It was Diver coming to help reef sail "That looks like the twirlers' boat." I recognized it then: the filthy old bird-boat that the twirlers were hustled aboard at Cullin. I slackened my grip so that we entered the channel badly; Mamor seized the filler and eave me a shove. "Watch out!" He maneuvered more skillfully, and we drew level, away from the swinging bow. We could see aboard now; the deck was empty . tangle of broken cages scraped and rattled as the boat moved with the current. Not a sign of the twirlers or the boat's crew. We were all watching now, crowded to the low "What crew was aboard?" asked Brin ( 61 ) "Captain and one or two sailors . . ." said Diver, "old fellows in whitish clothes. Do you remember, Dom?" "No . . ." I whispered. "Two sailors helped the twirlers go aboard." "Na-hoo the bird-boat!" Brin hailed them in her fine, mellow voice, seldom raised. Then we joined in, piping and calling, with the Harper making a melodious descant. "Na-hoo the birder ... Brown Keel ... you there, the bird-boat!" "Vano deg!" boomed Mamor, and we laughed uneasily at his joke ... it means something like "big, cross, old bird". Then Diver filled his lungs and set the whole river ringing from bank to bank with his strange cries. "Coo-ee! Ahoy the bird-boat! Ahoy there!" There was no reply; the boat was derelict, deserted. Night was coming down, and we all felt the same uneasi ness. Old Gwin urged Mamor to move on and made averting sign. "We must search," said the Harper. He cursed the twirlers under his breath and Old Gwin rebuked him saying they were holy creatures. No one wanted the searching the bird-boat. The Harper gritted his tee gave me his instrument, but Diver laid a hand on hi "I'll go and take Dorn," he said, "in case I n interpreter. " I looked at Brin, and she questioned with her eyes: W afraid? "I'm ready." I was afraid, but game enough Diver for company. Mamor timed it nicely; he inched his barge pole alonth left sandbank and slewed the barge around as the bow the bird-boat swung towards us again. Diver and I lea across the thread of water and landed in a heap on the lime deck. We picked our way across the boards, slippiV~ over old tackle, a leather boot, a bunch of blue feathers from a twirler's cloak? Diver paused, head erect; even thought-blind could sense it. He gripped my arm. ( 62 ) Ct on't come anv further 17 "I know," I whispered. "Death ... dead persons. Go on." Slowly he bent down and lifted the worn leather curtain that covered the ooden cabin housing. He shone his light down into the blackness the y at ird" - river o-ee! erted - asi- the ed the d him, tas'k of eth and is arm - need an along the bow Of d I leaped n the limed ipping over eathers - - ct; even one arm The cabin was larger than I had expected, a bare brown hold, with the ribs of the vessel showing through thread- bare hangings. No twirlers, alive or dead, only a torn blue cloak to show that ten or fifteen passengers had been aboard. Then the circle of light rested on a tabletop, a rough thing made of a wicker bird cage upended. There were three of them, two slumped forward, one upright. Diver drew in his breath. The captain and the sailors were dead, dead as tree stumps on their wicker stools; three ancients, all female, old as Gwin. They were still, their faces hidden, their limp bodies moving a little with the motion of the old keel boat. And I saw whv the sight of them strange and terrible as it was, I moved me to pity rather than terror "It is a death-Dact," I said. "See . their hands." The wrists of the three old t)ersons were firmlv bound with a red cord. "How)" whisi)ered Diver. "Poison. It is an old thread we follow. See the cups." Two cuns and a cracked beaker rolled about on the table top. "Come awa " said iver "Poor old creatures Aren't thev female?" "Yes " I said. "We must go do n." "No need." icy I es." I was urgent. I did not dare look back to the friendly shape of the barge in case my nerve failed. "Please Diver We are the first finders of a death-nact. We must Drav and take their message skein." Diver nodded, and we went down the slippery ladder into the hold. I began the prayers as soon as I came to the ( 63 ) foot of the steps, stumbling over the words in my haste. I picked at the fringe of my tunic and drew out a red thread; this was going to be the hardest part. With Diver, solemn- faced, watching me and shining the light, I drew back the captain's leather coat and laid the thread to her forehead. It was not terrible. She was old, wrinkled, pale; -ncjw she slept. The same with the other two. Three old sibs, most probably, or relicts of some Five with a new bird-boat in happier days. There on the table lay a long message skein in yellow flax fibre, teased from a rope. I finished my prayers and took it up, with the required response, near as I could recall. Diver saw that I was ready. He flicked the light around, examined the piece of the twirler's cape, then flung it aside. We hurried away, catching our breath. "Anything else?" asked Diver, on the deck. "We must show Brin the skein." It had grown much darker, and the crossing from one vessel to the other was more difficult. Coming back to my Family, even so short a distance, was enough to make me shudder and sob with relief. We sat in the tent, except Mamor who kept watch, while Brin read the message skein again and again. Her eyes flashed golden in the, light of Diver's torch. "What's in the wind?" asked the Harper. "Evil . . ." said Brin in a fierce tone. "What became of those spirit dancers?" demanded Old Gwin. "Child, tell us. . . " I looked at her and saw the three pale faces in my mind, in contrast to her lively brown wrinkled face. Brin read the skein: "Our birds have flown. Our sweet singers have been hauled from the hold. We plied our trade honestly and gave shelter to travellers, But now our good keel is dishonored. ( 64 ) hile eyes Old ind, d the ellers, Mother North Wind accept all we can give, Ourselves compacted in death. Mother North Wind bring deepest ruin Upon the hand that strangles the spirit warriors. Spirit of Eenath, his own kin, Be stern upon the Elder Tiath. First finders, remember your charge. 'Be. blessed if vou be not accursed Itho, Lanar, Meedo. Bird carriers (~ut 0i CuMn." She read the message aloud several times until even Diver understood, with our prompting. Harper Roy went out and told it to Mamor. I have put too many in danger," said Diver. "The twirlers were speaking about my ship. . "Not you . . ." Old Gwin flashed her favorite finger sign before her eyes like bone scissors. "Not you, young Luck. There's only one hand at work here and a bloody one. Strangler Tiath has dishonored these poor old bird run- ners. "Dragged the twirlers off their boat!" said Brin. "That means he may not be far away. I could wish we were all safe at Whiterock Fold." "Does this mean Tiath Gargan killed all the twirlers?" I asked. "Who knows?" Mamor had come to warm up and talk. "They're hardy outcasts. Perhaps some escaped." "What is the first finder's charge?" asked Diver. No one liked to tell him. Brin sighed. "Dorn," she said, "you were very brave, but the charge may never be complete." I agreed. "The first finders are charged, according to the old threads, to deliver any curse or blessing in a death-pact skein," she explained. "To blazes with that!" said Mamor. "The child has done 77 ( 65 ) more than enough. Don't put ideas in his head." "Don't worry," I said. "I hope I never get within offering distance of Tiath Gargan." The full darkness was slipping away, and I was suddenly bone weary, as if I had climbed Hingstull. I fumbled my way into the sleeping bag and fell deeply asleep before Old Gwin had finished brewing me a herb drink. I dreamed that a brown bird, a night-caller, sat on our tent by day, and I knew, in my dream, that it was Odd-Eye, our old Luck. I told him all was well with us and the new Luck he had found for us was the best in all the world. Then the dream dissolved; I woke once, and the barge was still not unde way. Narneen, half in the sleeping bag, was peerin through a slit in the deck tent, and I joined her. Outside i the silvery light of the Far Sun I saw figures moving on th west bank; Mamor and Diver and the Harper were diggi in the sand, laying the dead to rest. I slept again and did no dream; by the time I woke, we were far downstream. Th bird-boat had been towed out of the channel and moored i a marshy inlet, among the mud-trees. The broad stream stretched before us; it was the thir day, and I felt as if I had spent all my life on the river. Yet was troubled, and so were the rest; I could not get th image of the death-bound ancients out of my mind. Th looms clacked slowly in the tent; Narneen had fits o weeping; Mamor cursed invisible shoals. Diver sat amid ships with the Harper, trying to master the knots of th woven symbols with a practice skein. The fine weather tha had echoed our happiness turned round now that we we downcast. It was gray and chill at midday; we passed one o two small craft travelling upstream. In the distance, on the west bank, there was a break i the thick groves of willow and mud-trees: a larger town Wellin, the last place we must pass before Whiterock Fold Idly, at the rail, I lobbed a fish spine at an odd blue piece o flotsam, then felt my skin dimple with cold as I realize ( 66 ) n e 9 ot he in rd t I the he of id- the that ere e or k in wn, old. ce of lized what it was. I shouted, and Mamor held down the sweep. I crossed the deck to stand with Diver and the Harper as the body of the dead twirler was borne slowly past. "Great Wind!" breathed Roy. "There was some sense in that death-skein." Diver brought out his glass; it looked like a light-tube, but he could draw it out to twice the length. It had a lens inside to make distant things look closer; Mamor said that such things were made in Rintoul and the Fire-Town to guide sailors on the Great Ocean Sea. Diver scanned the stream ahead and the landing stage at Wellin, his face darkening. He handed the glass to the Harper, who took one look and went to Mamor. "What is it?" I tugged Diver by the sleeve. His blue eyes rested on me. tt "A black barge," he said, moored at this place ahead. Some grandee . . ." Already I knew which one. "Pentroy?" "There are three knots on the sail." Mamor altered course to the east bank and presently, when we saw a little wicker crossing-boat approaching, he sent us all into the tent. We heard him hail the solitary rower. 4 "What doings in Wellin, friend?" We were huddled together, beside Brin, at the loom; the voice came thinly over the water. ". . . assize . "Great Wind save us!" Mamor was shocked, or pretend- ed to be. "Thought I saw a drowned spirit warrior?" The voice of the passerby became urgent, telling some long tale; then as the coracle was rowed closer, we caught a few words. ". . . no friend to the twirlers . . . the river or the peThere was a cackling laugh. We heard Mamor wish the rower a surly good-day and felt the vibration as he began heaving on his capstan to turn the paddle wheel. We could guess the story Mamor had to tell. "Tiath Pentroy lies at Wellin wharf. He held assize there yester- day. The Town Five went along with him, threw in some local troublemakers-a thief, a bush weaver who killed a cook-shop servant in a brawl. Ten persons hanged, most of them twirlers that the Elder had chained on the deck of his barge." "Where did he capture them?" asked Brin. "On the river itself ... the twirlers made good speed to Fanne and Nedlor, so I gather, and danced in these hamlets." I seemed to hear the thud of bare feet on packed eart and the jingle of shell bracelets . . . with a new message Beeth Ulgan's words had told of "a true spirit warrior bringing peace and honor." "The Strangler caught up with them at Nedlor," said Mamor, "as he bore downriver on that black palace moore up ahead. His vassals went to watch the twirler dance . "He seized them in Nedlor village?" asked Old Gwin. "Not he! The Great Elder is cunning as a honey-stealer His dark craft lay off Nedlor, and when the vassals brough back word to him, he decided to put down the twirlers. 0 so I read this fellow's.skein ... his family have to do with bean plot in Nedlor. The twirlers set sail in the bird-boa after their dance, and Tiath pounced. The villagers saw i by Esder light, just about the rising of the Great Sun. Th grand barge grappled the bird-boat, vassals dragged off the twirlers . . . some were drowned, some put in chains. reckon that some escaped too ... maybe the villagers go them to safety . . . this bean-grower knew more than h was telling." "Cunning is the word for the Great Elder," said Harpe Rov. "Twirlers have no fight in them once the dance i done." "But the old persons on the bird-boat ( 68 ) ... who witnesse r- d to ese earth sage. 0 rrior, 11 said oored irlcrs win. stealer. rought lers. Or o with a ird-boat rs saw it un. The off the chains - I agers got e than he id Harper e dance is bound bv custom to carrv Dasseneers." his crime and were carrying the twirlers Diver was puzzled. "Why did he let them go free?" "Tsk! No crime, young Luck!" chuckled old Gwin. "When will you learn? Tiath Pentroy commits no crimes. He is first of all a Judge, who may hold assize at request, in any place on these his lands. He works by the old threads. He had no quarrel with the bird carriers . . . they are "He arrested the twirlers . . ." put in Mamor. "They were brought up at Wellin assize for 'poisoning the river'." "Old stuff . . ." sighed Gwin. She rocked her body to and fro, chanting under her breath for the departed twirl- ers "A false charge!" said Diver. "Of course," said Brin. "It's an old slander against the twirlers. Town Fives and sheDherds use it to move them on. They carry herbs for their ecstasy . . ." "The bird carriers were so old and helpless," I said, "that the Elder gave no thought to them or their poor honor." " U tsagara neri fogoban, " said the Harper. "Can you make anything of that old skein row, Diver?" "I know 'fire' and 'goes on burning'," said Diver. "One fire-seed, one spark, goes on burning," said Brin. "We are peaceful people, here in the north, but very stubborn. A seed of injustice, of dishonor, settles behind our eyes and may drive us to death in order to put it right. So it was with the bird carriers The boat scraDed against a tree and Mamor ho had I I propped the sweep, ran out to steer clear. We came out of the tent fearfully into the gray noon light. The smooth surface of the Troon was choppy with wind-waves, and the" trees lashed about over our heads. It was decided that we would he over all day, where we were, a mile or so short of Wellin, and on the opposite bank. Come the last light we would make haste downstream and slip through the deep channel by the wharf. We had to pass close to the Elder's 0~ barge because the river narrowed at this point-there we snags and sandbanks to the east. I thought the darkness would never come; my inside were knotted like an ill-threaded loom. I sat apart on th deck, clutching the long, loose message skein woven by th three bird carriers. Presently Diver came and sat besid me. "Those names . he said, "let me see if I can rea them." He felt his way through the final grouping of th knots, consulting the learning skein that Roy had twirle up for him. "Itho ... La-bar?" "Lanar," I said. "Itho is right. Then Lanar and Meedo.' "Poor old women." He used the word from his ow tongue, and I wondered if there was much differenc between women and female Moruians. I am still not sure o the answer; when first I saw a "woman", I only knew tha she was of Diver's race. She was wrapped up in her clothes sexless and strange as a female grandee. Diver went on to tell me a strange tale, a spirit legen from his own world. It seems there were three ancie spirits who were said to rule over the lives of humans an control their destiny. They sat in a cave, and two spun th thread of life while the third sat by, ready to snip it off. labored over the names as he did over the woven symbol "Clotho, Lachesis and Atropos." "When I saw the ancients,". said Diver sadly, "they p me in mind of that tale." "I wish it would get dark." "What are you thinking?" Diver caught my eye: he sa too much. Thought-blind maybe, but quick in his unde standing. "You are thinking of the first finder's charge ... "We will pass so close!" I whispered, half-fearful th Mamor or Brin might hear me. "Diver ... couldn we? . . ." "Maybe." His blue eyes were hard. I trusted hi ( 70 ) then against the might of Tiath Gargan "Give me the skein." I should be the one to throw it." d d n ce Of hat es, end cient s and n the off. I bols: M "No!" He was firm. "Leave it to me. This Great Elder is too dangerous. We'll do it from a safe distance." "Don't tell!" I must " he said. "Onlv ait until dark " So I thought my plan-one for hurling the skein aboard the Elder's barge as we slipped through the channel-was quite lost. I trusted Diver, but he was, after all, a grown- up. I expected a bit of chiding from the Five. We reefed the sail but did not stow the mast . . . Mamor planned to use all speed. When the Great Sun was down, we swung back into the current in the wake of a small gray fishing boat. Their riding flare bobbed ahead of us; there came a soft hail. "Na-hoo the barge 11 "Na-hoo the fisher . . ." boomed Mamor softly. "Are you bound for Wellin?" "Beyond," came the faint answer, "fishing the reach by Whiterock. You going to Wellin wharP" "Not this time . . . too crowded." The fishers laughed. "Too many ropernakers at Wellin . . ." ey put he saw under- ge f ul that couldn't ted him We went on as swiftly as the current would take us; the lights of Wellin shone out over the river. We saw the fisher slip into the shadow of the grain store then out again, past the great, lighted shape of the Elder's barge, and swiftly on again into the darkness beyond. No one hailed from the wharf or the barge; Wellin lay like the dead. I thought of the trees of Wellin hung with dead twirlers; the hand of the Great Elder lay heavily over the place. Then we were in the channel; with Mamor working the paddlewheel as fast as he dared, to keep up our speed, and Harper Roy acting tillergrip. I crawled out of the tent and went on crawling right to the rail. Little eddies of sound came out of the night; we were in the shadow of the gra store. I lifted my head and saw white water churning at o bow. I realized that voices and music were coming from t black barge. We were abreast of it now, and still had a scrap shadow to cover us. I saw that Diver was lying on the de with his light stick shaded, looking at some magical engin I looked right onto the deck of the Elder's barge; I could n look away. We passed in a few heartbeats, but the sce caught and held me and has lived in my memory from th time. The barge was enormous, with a tent the size of a fixe house, all draped in fine, black hangings, of outd weight, with swags and pelmets woven and reworked green and gold. There were vassals and their office drinking and gaming round a huge red mat at the bow. Y the stern was a lofty platform and steps, thickly carpete The Elder's people were in attendance, so many that could be called a court, and dressed so fine they could a have been grandees. I looked for Rilpo Galtroy and Tew but did not see them. The courtiers sprawled on the steps or clustered bes tub gardens and a flowered trellis. Some were wrappedii hel fur-trimmed cloaks,, but others wore light robes; t'i ir ba backs and legs made me shiver. The colors were bright an' rich: flame, purple, blue green. The musicians played o harp, a box-harp and a matched set of pouch pipes. I open space before the scrolled wicker throne, a dwar dancing. In the great scrolled chair there was a silent figure. was past middle age but not yet an ancient. His dress very plain: a black tunic, leather boots like his own vass A single yellow jewel the size of a fist was strung round chest crosswise, on a thong; a fur-lined cloak of black an~., gray flowed over the chair back. His face had the pallor ofil grandee, and the features were strongly marked. I could ( 72 ) ur the of eck ine. not cene that the deep grooves -cut in the firm, pale skin of the Elder's shaven cheeks and the fine carving of his lips. He filled me with fear and loathing His nose had a high bridge and his eye sockets were so long that they appeared to join into a single slit under the iuttincr line of a single dark bro . It is I the look we call vadorn or three-eved. fixed tdoor ed in fficers W. At rpeted. that it ould all Tewl, d beside apped in eir bare right and ed on a . In the warf was figure. He s dress was wn vassals- round his black and e pallor of a I could see The Great Elder sat in his chair, still and brooding, with his hands lightly clenched upon the wings. I was convinced that I saw him now, once for all, as he was. He was fixed in my mind forever as cold, watchful, cruel, immensely powerful ... silent among the jangling throng of courtiers, who went in continual fear of his presence. Then we were past the black barge, churning our way into darkness with Mamor and Diver heaving up the sail. Brin stood on deck and I clung to her. "Yadorn," I whispered. "Did you see him?" "I saw." A soft wind thrust at the sail. My eyes were accustomed to the night again, and the great barge at Wellin wharf was, by now, a glow of light astern. I saw that all of us were on deck, even Old Gwin, muttering a continuous chant and Narneen with her teeth chattering. We had all come out and were standing close together, under the stars, in some sort of defiance. Mamor said: "Far enough?" "Fine," said Diver. He was working with a lightstick on the deck of the barge. "What do you think, Brin?" he asked. "Worth the risk!" growled Mamor. "That three-eved "Do it!" said Brin. "Dorn? Where is the death pact skeip?" "Diver has it." I was still mystified Harper Roy, at the tiller, sent a breathy whisper "Where's your star-gun, Diver?" Diver drew out the skein, and I saw him wind it round a pointed tube, fitted to the firing end of his weapon . . . he called it a stun-gun. Then he went aft and balanced on the rail, aiming high into the air. There was a light thump, a pulse beat or so, and suddenly the air far behind us was filled with green fire. A green star, brighter than any light I had ever seen, brighter than Esto, the Great Sun itself, blossomed in the dark air above, directly over the black barge. We heard the shrieks and cries of the Elder's people. We saw, or hoped we saw, the death pact skein falling down like smoke, carrying the ancients' curse to the very lap of Tiath Gargan. We sailed on into the reach and saw that this part of the river was dotted with fishing boats. Diver kept a close watch astern, but there was no pursuit. How could there be? No one on the river besides ourselves had the least idea of how this green star came about. Even Old Gwin, who saw Diver fire the flare, but was ignorant of our plan, had difficulty in grasping the notion. The Great Elder and his armed vassals knew about missiles-arrows, spears and catapults that hurled stories. They knew more than the old threads allowed about fire-flaming arrows and the terrible firestone clingers that assassins hurl from a metal cup. But Diver's stun-gun and the flare rocket were far beyond their knowledge. They saw what we all saw and what was seen and wondered at by all the people of the river: a gree sta, H n it r fell from heaven over the Great Elder's barge. We heard rom the fishing boats, minutes after the flare, and we heard again, exaggerated, at Whiterock and all the way to Otolor. Tiath Pentroy had drawn down the wrath of Eenath, his immortal ancestor, for killing her spirit warriors. So we sailed on unharmed and came in at dawn to tie at Whiterock Fold. An ancient shepherd came down 'ir~s rs. greet the blue barge, expecting Beeth Ulgan or her facto I We were escorted to her fixed house near the landing; our time on the river was over. 74 THERE ARE PLENTY OF JOKES about rough bush weavers moving into a fixed house, and I dare say we could have been the models for them all, at Whiterock. If it wasn't the cold, the cooking hearth, the earth closet or the cupboard locks, then we were complaining about the stuffiness and the way the walls did not give. We adapted pretty quickly, and the Ulgan's small white house became dear and familiar to us. But there were nights, as spring approached, when we couldn't stand it another moment and slent in our bam-; and r fell f rorn ard it tolor. h, his tie up wn to actors. ng; our on the lawn or on the flat roof, under the stars Vvniterock Fold, never more than a stopping place, was almost deserted. There were seven shepherds-one Family, with two grown children as outclips-tending the fold itself, a mile away behind the outcrop of rock that gave the place its name. Half the hundred wool-deer belonged to Beeth Ulgan, the rest were divided among the shepherds and a town grandee from Wellin. Come spring they would be shorn and turned into the wider pastures round the rock, where they already grazed on fine days. The wool would be shipped up and down the river, some back to Cullin, some down to Otolor Spring Fair. Beeth had promised us a first- class bale in payment for our new work left at Stone Brook. When our work was done, or when the weather was so W_ bright we could persuade the grown-ups to set us free, Narneen and I explored the glebe of the Ulgan's house. Eventually we grew bolder and crossed the grazing lawns to scramble on the tall rock and look down on the shepherd's fold. There was no need for Diver to hide ... although he could have: the fixed house was full of deep cupboards in the curtain walls, as well as a cellar underground. He walked free and went on fishing trips with Mamor in a wicker crossing-boat from the landing. On one of these journeys they learned from a shepherd that the barge bearing the air ship had passed Whiterock a full five days ahead of us. It met with the Great Elder's barge, coming down from Otolor, and Tiath Gargan had gone aboard in midstream to examine the cargo. There was no shortage of gossip up and down the river. The shepherd even volun- teered her own idea of what might be on the barge under the covers: a great hoard of silver treasure, fallen from heaven. Diver was restless, but he was in a land that was all new, and every day he found new things to interest him. He made a folder of dried leaves and plant drawings; he collected rocks. Ten days, fifteen passed, and the suns moved ever closer, to mark the year's end. The weather was so fine that it brought the sunners out onto the rocks; the early-eyes and red-bells were opening. In the air and on the river, the bright two-sun days brought out the "deedeenar" or "flitterlings". One or two small pleasure boats with painted sails flittered past on the Troon; and one day, as Diver sat with us on the rock he gave a cry. The firstIll balloon of springtime went past overhead, and not behind it was a glider. It was a fine sight: Narneen and I loved flying machi and looked for these flitterlings or spring visitors every year. "Grandees?" asked Diver. He had moved into the sh ow of a boulder and drawn out his spyglass. ( 76 ) "That's right," I said. "No one else has the time or the credits. Well, maybe one or two rich townees." I tried to explain about the air currents and the air races, the landing platforms and the catapults in Rintoul, Otolor and the Fire-Town. And the greatest race of all. the Bird Clan at Otolor. Narneen broke in, "We see them better here. At Cullin they land on the fairground, and on Hingstull they fall, poor dears, if the wind is wrong!" It was true. On the mountain e got too manv unskillful flitterlings who dashed their expensive craft, and sometimes themselves, all to pieces. Diver handed me the glass, and as I trained it on the flame and silver balloon, he laughed to new, . He s; he suns er was S; the on the eenar tS INIth day, as he first not far Machines rs every the shad- himself and hummed one of his tunes. There was something brave and comical about the party of grandees in the basket. They wore furs, because it was chilly, and seemed to be eating and drinking enormously. And one-I gave a yelp of laughter-a personage in a green cloak was looking back at us on the rock with another si)vglass. Diver looked again and Narneen took a Deer). We could not stop laughing; we rolled about on the rock while Diver took back his glass and examined the glider, bearing away to the other side of the river. Then he sang us his song of the flying machines, and I gave him the first words, "Ototo Deedeenar . . . Great, great flitterlings ?? We lay on the rock hoping for more machines, but none came and we went back to the house laughing and adding pieces to our song. Diver could not hide his excitement "We told you," said Brin, after supper. "Did you think those were hill varns)" Diver shook his head and laughed; he was rather shame- faced. "The flying is more advanced than I expected." We sat in comfort in the midst of Beeth Ulgan's house, on cushions and our own mats laid down. When I saw our hangings on the white walls and looked round at the familiar faces, I could hardly believe that we had become so grand . . . like city-dwellers. Diver asked about the use of gliders and balloons. Mamor chimed in; he had flown in a glider. Some distant sib of his Five had been a glider pilot, who carried messages and passengers about in the Fire-Town. "There is the difference between Tsagul and the rest of the world," said Brin. "Flying is a sport for the rich everywhere else. In the Fire-Town it is put to hard use." "Ah . . ." said Harper Roy, who was quiet and thought- ful this night. "Many others would fly if they could. Remember Antho the Bird Farmer." "Remind us," said Mamor. "Diver has not heard the story." So Roy took his harp and accompanied his tale, half-sung and half-told, in the manner that is called "man- tothan". I cannot set it down as he delivered it, but the story is a simple one: "Antho the Bird Farmer was not a clansman; he lived on the outskirts of Rintoul where there are bird farms and market gardens to serve the needs of the great city. He followed the old threads, but he suffered a great loss ... his Five and their children all were killed in an accident on the river, and Antho, who had been proud and rich, was left alone. He became mad, so it was said, with his solitude. One day he set free all his caged birds, even the scratching fowl who cannot fly, and wandered into the wilderness. There the winds took pity on him and blessed him with the power of flight. He made a marvellous craft from bentwood and a bolt of silk he found floating down the Datse. It was launched from the roof of a ruined temple, with the aid of two hermits, male and female, who lived in the desert. Then Antho caught every current of air and flew better than the grandees. His glider took him home again and was a wonder to behold. No other craft could match it, and the design was widely copied. In the end ( 78 ) the tale, an- t the ed on s and Y. He ss - - - ent on h, was olitude. ratching rness. im with aft from own the d temple, o lived in f air and him home raft could In the end Antho flew away on another of his journeys and did not return. It was said that the winds had taken him. We applauded when the tale was done, and the Harper repeated his last notes ... Antho flying into the setting of the suns. "Is this tale very old?" asked Diver. "Bv no means " said the Harper "Antho has been one no more than twenty springs." "He could be still alive!" I cried. "An ancient-" The grown-ups all laughed. "Hush child," said Gwin, "you heard the Harper. The winds took him." "I wonder?" said Brin. "Who is this liege of Beeth Ulgan's ... the Maker of Engines." It was past the time for our best sleep, and we were folding our clothes into their bags, ready to crawl into our own. The Harper sighed and hung up his beautiful harp upon the white wall. "Diver," he said, "I have been talking with the shepherds ... Varb's Five." "What do they say?" asked Diver. "Last spring there were grandees at Whiterock. They left behind a treasure that none could put to use. "A treasure?" I asked "Their glider came down about half a mile northeast of the rock," grinned Roy. "It lies there yet, covered with hides and branches " "A glider!" Diver's eyes were shining with excitement. We knew why the Harper had been unwilling to tell about this treasure. "We must look at it tomorrow!" said Diver. "Will you ... will we all go flying?" asked Narneen Diver looked at us sensina the tension. "If your Luck can flv," he said, "then so can you all." It made me slee easier When I woke up, in brightish Esder light, before the Great Sun rose, the Harper and Diver had already gone. I ran up onto the roof, struggling with my tunic, and caught sight of them, clear of the glebe, two dark figures striding across the grazing fields. They passed into the shadow of the tall rock. I dared not go back down the ladder for fear of waking the others. They would soon be stirring anyway, it was only the darkness of the fixed house that kept them asleep. I looked over the edge of the roof and found more handholds than there were on Hingstull. Down I went, by rain pipe, window edge, and a tree branch. I ran through the glebe and across the grass in the flat light of Esder, overhead. It was a near thing, but I glimpsed Diver and Roy passing into a grove of trees off to the northeast, away from the fold. The wool-deer thumped and chirruped in their stockades; I thought I heard Varb's Five stirring in their tent. I could have run on and caught up; but instead, out of mischief, or shyness, or because I wanted to go back to the fixed house for breakfast, I decided just to watch. I turned back and climbed the white rock. It made a comfortable vantage point. There was soft grass growing in the hollows of the rock, young flax plants and berry vines, thick with buds and flowers, the promise of summer fruit. I settled in a warm hollow, closed on three sides with boulders, like a room in the top of a tower. Diver and Roy were walking through open country now; all that lay before them was a fallen tree with some kind of lean-to against it. The glider must be there. The morning was so still that I could hear the sound of their voices, as they came up to the lean-to and began stripping away hides and dead bushes. Off towards the riverbank a wind flat- tened a clump of tall reeds, snaked through a patch of scrub, made a clump of trees and their shadows waver. But there is no wind, a voice whispered inside my head. "Look child, there is no wind." ( so ) ut of the ned rtable 11ONVS k w ith tied in I like a Y now; kind of orning oices, as ay hides ind flat- patch of aver. But ad - "Look called, "Danger . . . danger What then? I whispered in thought, scanning the clump of trees. There, yes, I see now. A watcher. Only one? I cannot be sure. . . . there. . . . now it is clear. The Great Sun, rising to meet Esder, sent long, golden fingers of light across the land to the east. My eyes were fixed on the spy, the stranger, crouched in bushes, only fifty paces from Diver and Roy as they cheerfully uncovered the alider and walked around it. I was afraid, uncertain of what to do. What I saw was like a dream and I was in the dream and out of it at the same time. If I shouted a warning, would the cry hang in air and never reach Diver and Rov? Would the watcher be alarmed, angry. The voice in my head asked: "What would you do on the mountain, child?" and I answered; I sr)oke the answer in a low voice. "I would high-call to Roy. . . . " And I knew the strana- est thing of all: I was not alone on the rock. There was one who stood at my back, shedding a mild radiance, a feeling of warmth all round me. I was linked in thought, guided, as Beeth Ulgan had guided Mooneen, the poor twirler. I rose to my feet and high-called with all my skill Harper Roy. The trick is to produce a smooth flow of notes, between singing and calling; I knew it was done right when the back of my throat tickled. The high-call flew out, straight to Roy's ears, like the call of a morning bird. I . . . danver" and then, "Tree . . . tree . . . tree. I saw Harper Roy spring back and lift his head, then give the returning call, "Heard . . . heard . . . heard." A figure leaped up from the bushes, and Diver gave a shout. He ran forward a few paces, and I was afraid he might use the stun-gun. But the watcher was very quick, racing away now, bent double among the scrub. "Have no fear, child; the creature is not worth your Luck's weanon " ( 81 ) I sank down again and, still deep in the dream, I turned my head. The fire of Esto was in my eyes. A tall figure in black and green, not ten paces away, on the uneven summit of the rock. "Who?" A bordered robe, long hands, but not the restless bird hands of a grandee. A glint of metal, dull gold, green gold, in one hand, and I knew. I thought the words: "Maker of Engines . . ." A low chuckling laugh. I put up my hand to screen out Esto's light. The words were spoken this time: "Guard your Luck, Dorn Brinroyan!" There was a first light gust of wind, stirring the vines, and I was alone. I climbed down from the rock and ran without looking back through the trees and across the open spaces. I was out of breath when I came up to Roy and Diver. "Now what's this?" said Roy sharply. "Why are you out after us, watching from the rock, high-calling?" "The watcher . . ." I gasped, pointing towards the place. "You did warn us, I suppose." "But what was it?" I begged. "What sort of a person?" Diver shook his head. "Tall, wild. A male. I have a feeling I've seen that creature before." "Some outcast," said the Harper, "some wretched berry-picker scavenging for a poor broken Five." "Well, what do you think of her?" asked Diver proudly. He meant the glider. It sat on the grass, free of its coverings, like a fallen insect, a poor flitterling indeed. I had never examined one so closely before, although I knew they were made mostly of bentwood, covered with oiled fabric. This one was large-fifteen paces long and the wings a good twenty paces if one had not been broken. Yet it seemed a frail thing to sit in, above ground. When I looked more closely still, I saw that the bentwood was very finely worked; two lengths came from the tail in a swooping curve and arched over the pilot's chair. The wing, scalloped along ( 82 ) or ched dly - of its I had they fabric. a good erned a d more finely g curve ed along its backward edge, fitted through this arch and was ribbed with short lengths of tough silken cord, most still unbro- ken. The fabric was a silk-weave, fine flax of a pale, clear yellow, mottled and torn in places, or stained with berry juice and bird droppings. The whole contrivance rested lightly on bentwood runners. "It is beautiful," I said at last. "But can you make it fly again?" Diver laughed. "Better than before!" Then he and Roy began to examine the craft again, walking around it, flexing the broken wing, getting down on their haunches to peer between the curves of bentwood. I was impatient with them and still afraid. There were times when grown-ups had no sense and not enough fear. I sat on the fallen tree, staring through the bushes to the river reeds, the path where the watcher had come and gone. Had he used a boat? I carried the memory of that other watcher, the presence on the rock; the certainty of the experience was not fading but sinking deeper into my mind. If I did not speak soon, I knew I would never tell them, I might never tell an one I had never in my life kept an important thing from my Family. I had scarcely covered up the least mischief, had not bothered to lie about trifles: snatched graynuts, dropped stitches, time spent tree climbing instead of gathering food or dye-herbs. Should I turn away from them now and not try to explain that the Maker of Engines was protecting our Luck? Diver and the Harper had hitched ropes to the head of the glider; we cleared the runners and swung it round. Roy called me, and I ran to lift the broken wing off the grass; the glider swung easily in a half-circle. "Back to the fixed house glebe?" asked Diver "We could work on it here more secretly," suggeste Roy. "NO"' I cried. "No, by the fire that burned the world! There is danger . . . the watcher . . . the outcast!" They smiled but not scornfully. Suddenly Harper R gave a click with his tongue and strode towards t watcher's low tree. I stiffened, wondering if the creatu had returned. "Easy now. I had a flash that we do know that watcher he said, tugging his chin-lock. "Yes ... but from where?" asked Diver. The Harper made the sign that means "Discovery "The twirler! The Leader ... what was his name?" "Yes!" said Diver. "The twirler ... I never got I name!" "Petsalee, Host of Spirits!" I cried. I thought again Mooneen, the poor crazed wretch that Beeth Ulgan h enchanted. "Poor devil. At least he escaped Tiath Gargan," sa Diver. But now the Harper was thoroughly alarmed, an understood why. We tried to make Diver understand. "He was a spirit warrior, an outcast, that's true . . ." sa the Harper, "but he was also the Leader. Maybe he had little substance, a bag of offerings, or a gift of fortu telling. And we know he fell into the hands of the Pentroy "You mean he was hanged? That was his spirit?" teas Diver. "No! But did he buy a life?" said Harper Roy. It was an alternative to death, shameful, so it was sai but possible. A condemned person was sometimes perm ted to buy into vassalage ... become a lesser servant, li the clan slaves in ancient times. Diver understood. "So Petsalee might be Tiath Pentroy's vassal?" "His spy! His telling-bird!" I whispered. Diver took it more seriously. He and Roy picked i the ropes, and we went back through the morning field We took a wide detour around the fold and the roc then pushed and dragged and slithered the glider,rig under the spreading trees of the house glebe. ( 84 ) said nd I said ad a tune roy!" eased s said, errnit- nt, like d up g fields. e rock, er right be. We went straiaht indoors and told of our adventures Brin and Mamor joined with Roy to convince Diver of the risk. Petsalee was deeply suspect and a real threat to our security. He was one of the few who could weave the threads between Beeth Ulgan and our Luck. Mamor was all for scouring the riverbank and capturing the wretched ~(spirit warrior", but we restrained him. Old Gwin still held firmly to the old threads; she could not believe that such a holy person could "buy a life" or turn traitor. W.- cptth-A In " Int - 0, 1 # A. e e ay o our or nary routine, if life in a fixed house could ever be ordinary, of weaving, cooking, playing, sleeping. Diver began searching up and down for wood and fabric to mend the glider. I was so quiet and worked so well at the mat-loom that Gwin felt my chest to see if I had a fever. I was still clacking away in midafternoon while Gwin dozed and Roy turned aside into another room to change a harp string. Narneen had run off to watch Diver and Mamor working on the glider. I saw Brin leave off her beautiful hanging on the great loom and climb the stairs to the room of evening. I went after her, and we knelt together by the bundles of new work and bedding. "What ails you, Dorn Brinroyan?" "Will you believe I speak the truth?" The storv was a burden to me; it had become false as if it had happened to another person. There sat Brin, round, soft and tall, in the golden tan vented robe; in the warm light of afternoon I saw her too in the special way I had seen Tiath Gargan on the black barge. I saw her forever: Brin, my pouch-mother. We were not quite alone together, for by this time the hidden child was nickering and stirring in its place. She heard me out and looked me in the face. I believe you, child." She went on with her sorting for a few moments then asked, "Do you think this is the power of your thought? Are you marked for a Witness, like young I shook my head, a bit regretfully. "No, it is all outsi myself. Or maybe it is the power we all have as childre The Maker of Engines works this will. It could have be performed on any one of us ... except Diver maybe." Brin sighed. "Gwin waits for a Witness to be born of t Five. She points to Narneen." I felt a shock of envy, but I remembered certain thinE "Narneen could be a Witness. She feels things before any us.19 "Well, we won't put ideas in her head." We smiled at each other, and the burden was lifted; I f comfortable again. I saw for the first time what it was th Brin had been sorting from our bundles. It was t beautiful showing cloth, five yards square, embroider with birds and flowers. "Yes," said Brin, "it is time. Your sib is too heavy f me.11 I was filled with such excitement that I broke the silen of the golden afternoon; I rushed from room to room telli everyone. The child had his showing that evening after supper. asked Diver to find a name. He sat at the edge of t showing cloth, watching our new sib flex its limbs a make baby soundsi He admitted that children of his ra were different: fatter, he said, and not so wide awake. uttered many strange names, searching for one that went well in one tongue as another. Roy is such a name. spoke a name To-mas; Gwin and Brin smiled. "Tomar," chuckled Old Gwin. "Tomar . . ." It is a good name because it has two meanings: "gr courage" or "great mischief". So there it was-the new o became Tomar, and Brin wove in his name on her skei He was measured, exercised, wrapped and put into N neen's old swing-basket, with the green silk ropes at hands and feet, so that he could pull up and stretch babies do. ( 86 ) "When will he walk?" asked Diver S. of elt at the red ence Iling r. We f the s and is race . He ent as e. He "No hurry," said Brin, "ten days or twenty. He may take his time." "When do your children walk?" asked Mamor. "A newborn child cannot walk," said Diver. "Not newborn," said Gwin, laughing. "New shown! Hark at the Islander." "That's the difference," said Diver. Now the year was far advanced to the spring; and by the for "great e\,%l one r skeins. Nar- es at his tretch as time the two suns spent together in the sky, we knew it would soon be New Year's Day. I do not know how the next plan was made ... it seems reckless now. Probably it came from Diver and Mamor, smoothing their pieces of curved wood and drawing in the dust. There is at Otolor Spring Fair a flying contest called Vantroy or the Bird Clan. There is a great prize of silver credits and woven stuff. Brin and Roy, who had gone to the fair as children, had often told us of the strange craft entering, the admira- tion and laughter, the winners ... One they recalled was a sprig of Dohtroy who stood on the seat of her golden glider and flung pearl-shells to the crowd. Perhaps it was this glorious memory that persuaded Brin to agree that Diver should enter and try his luck. Perhaps she agreed to please Mamor and Diver, thinking, as I did secretly, that the poor glider would never fly. Diver was not troubled by any such doubts. He was out all day by the machine, bending, patching, smoothing, or carving with Roy's knife or his own sharper one, on those curious spin-toys of curved wood. He had me cry out every time a flitterling went by, and we examined its design through his glass. I became familiar with the designs and would cry out, "Green slot-wing" or "Antho broad-tail" or "Pedal fan". The pedal fan models pleased him most, t6ugh his glider would be truly "an engine", and he could not believe that this was quite fair. We assured him that it \k,as. In fact the Bird Clan was the very place where ( 87 ) Ccengines" came into their own. The prohibition against "fire-metal-magic" did not work against the young clans- people who supported the contest. There were machines that flapped, flopped, buzzed, clanked, and gave off sparks and clouds of steam. One promising craft that Roy remem- bered had a sort of metal pot-stove aboard and flew very well until it exploded in midair. Blacklock's entries were notorious for their magic and their complexity. I used to sit in the grass beside our glider and shiver with excitement. We were going to Otolor, to the fair, to race in the Bird Clan, and I should see Blacklock at last. Tomar was brought out, for Gwin insisted that a weaver's child must roll in the sun to get rid of its first-fur. He was an exceptional child, I decided; anyone could see that from the way he tugged his swing ropes and smiled and tried to eat grass and hauled himself up onto his little, gripping tree-bear feet. Diver saw it at once and made his silkbeam pictures of the baby, which he could do, now there was plenty of sunshine. Fifteen days from the showing, Diver had his spin-toys in position on the nose and on the wings of the glider; he set them in motion with the engines from his vest, which had worked his magic equipment. The only things he did no' take to pieces were his shaver and his stun-gun. He was pleased with the result; the spin-toys buzzed and spun so fast they were invisible. At this sight Tomar cried out and took four steps. Diver had been busy with his paints from the Ulgan's barge, and there on the glider's side was its new name Tomarvan. We were delighted, because it meant so many things: Tomar's bird, his wing, his flying machine. Or perhaps it stood for the bird of great courage, the flying machine full of mischief. Brin had laid aside her vented robe for a short spri tunic; there was that springtime cheerfulness in the Family. I knew what would come next ... a round of spring garaes: with Old Gwin. There are special games that the ancients 88 e in ar ild an the eat ing earn was -toys e set had d not e was so nd s f rorn its new eant so achine. e flying t spring Family. ng garnes ancients play with the children in the spring. For the first time I was conscious of what it meant, but this year all had changed. Diver joined in our games, and at night we slept on the roof. The green and yellow mating tent that used to be pitched for the adults some way off in the glebe was hung to the doorway of an extra sleeping room. Diver understood; he 'joined in our games of flying sticks and holdstone and bean-bean with perfect good humor, but I expect he was lonely. He looked out at the stars from the roof. We asked him to sing, and I took it for granted that some of the songs were about springtime among his own people. One night Narneen said to Old Gwin: "Tell us how it was when you came to the Family Fair." This was one of our favorite stories; it was not respectful to ask a pouch- mother about her adventures at the Family Fair, but an ancient could tell such tales. "Oh, dear wind," sighed Gwin, "it is such a long way off, 11 "Tell us, Gwin," begged Diver. "I would like to hear." "Well, if the Luck asks . . ." she said. It was a mild and beautiful night on the roof; Tomar was fast asleer). "I was sixteen," said Old Gwin, "the eldest child of my Family and the only female child. We lived east of Cullin in a fine glebe and Felm, our leader and pouch-mother, ruled us all closely, so that we grew rich.' Geer?" "is the leader of a Five always a female?" asked Diver. "Great Wind, no!" I said. "Have you forgotten Hunter "I was never far from my lace loom or from herb- teaching," said O.An. "Felm, may her soul-bird fly far, would have been pleased to see me in a fixed house among tlie town grandees of Cullin. The choosing at a Family Fair is supposed to be done under the blessing of the North ~~7 Ind, but I must tell you, young Luck, there is plenty of arrangement that goes on beforehand. Felm was always pointing out to me the advantages of this or that young person who might 'stand forth' at the Fair and offer to star a Five." "You never thought of 'standing forth' yourself, Gwin?' asked Diver. "No," she said. "I was too shy. A leader is easily seen Brin, my own pouch-child, was a leader from the first though I say it myself." "Tell us about the message skein," said Narneen. "Well, I had been about in Cullin and I had seen certai young persons and been seen in my turn. A few days befo the Fair a child came to me at my loom with a little messa skein. It said 'Beautiful Gwin with the long hair, look fo the green mat where I stand forth,' and it bore the name o Tarr Gabroyan. This Tarr was an especially tall and handsome young fellow that came from a broken Five where the pouch-mother and the ancient had died of fever He had earned respect after this calamity by staying on in Cullin, not travelling to another town or taking service in Rintoul ... but he was still not my mother's idea of a worthy suitor. As the time approached I could not help thinking of him. The Family Fair at Cullin was magnificent in those days. The whole fairground was fenced with brushwood and decorated with flower carpets; the season was early spring. Musicians played night and day and there were food stalls. Only those who came to make Families were allowed into the main enclosure; there was space for the standing forth and the necessary dancing. When we went into the enclo- sure we wore straight linen robes woven in the pattern that is called five-petal, with no decoration except girdles flowers. I went alone into the enclosure; it was a strange feeling can tell you. I was turned loose, cut off from my birth Family for the first time, with nothing but their advice in my ears and a little wooden charm from Malbo Otru, ou. dear old Luck, who was a mute. I wandered among all the ( 90 ) in re e or of nd ive, er. n in e in of a help days. and ring. stalls. d into forth enclo- rn that dles of eeling I y birth avice in tru, our g all the others and did as the threads told me. I made the rounds of all the mats where a person stood forth and looked well. I came past Tarr's green mat; there he stood alone, but there was a crowd before him because he looked so fine. The crowd of choosers have the right to question any that stands forth and many of the young females were calling out to Tarr Gabroyan. I quickened my pace and went round again. One, two, of the richer persons called my name; I stood awhile before the mat of mv female friend Leen, who had been joined by a promising young hunter. 'Gwin,' she called, 'dear Gwin Felmroyan, come be mv sib and we will manage this hunter between us!' I passed on, smiling, and as I came towards Tarr's green mat for the second time I saw that one person had already joined him. I was filled with fear that I should be too late; I all but ran the last few steps and pushed through the crowd to see who had joined him. Surely, it was another female and very sweet-faced, a stranger that I had never seen before. Then Tarr saw me approaching and spoke to the pretty newcomer and the crowd parted and I stood at the very edge of the green mat. 'Beautiful Gwin,' said Tarr in that rich voice of his that I had heard in my dreams, 'we await your coming. Here is Roneen, come to be your sib., 'I am Koneen,' she said. 'Come to us, dear Gwin. et us make Tarr's FiveP So, seeing them both, I was persua I believed that the North Wind meant me to join this Family and no other. I stepped onto the green mat and the watchers cheered and sang. We took hands, all three, and did the first proving dance without one false step, which proved that we would match well, and so we did." "How came the rest of the Five?" asked Diver. "The ancient is most often close kin of a Five member, said Gwin, "so came to Tarr's Five that night his elder Old Therel, a kind and useful person." "And how do you find a Luck?" he asked "Bless you, a Luck finds a Family, not the other w about!" said Old Gwin. "There is a lot of haggling a unseemly competition for a good Luck. An unscrupulo Luck or its birth-Famil y can accept great gifts of cloth a credits. But a true Luck concentrates and sees in its mi where it should go. So Little Griss, the Luck of Tarr's Fiv came straight to us, that same night, carried in a basket its normal-sized sib. A dwarf, he was called but truly was more of a fairy person ... perfectly made but ve small. A Luck that could have fetched thousands of cred in the city. He was a sweet-natured creature; the thing loved best was to knit and we never had a leg or an arm ba of his skill." Old Gwin and Diver talked on, but by this time Narne was asleep and I was becoming drowsy; I curled up on t sleeping bag. I peered at Old Gwin's face; I loved h dearly but it pained me a little when she spoke of her you I could not see a trace of "Beautiful Gwin with the lo hair" who had danced the proving dances long ago at t Family Fair. Diver took advantage of the general good spirits to p forth an idea; it was not a time when the Luck can refused very much. I knew what he was asking, and I w afraid, lurking in doorways and behind trees to hear t others reply. Finally Mamor said, lazily unpicking a spoiled patten "It might be done." Then the Harper, mending Gwin's lace pins: "If yo think it is safe . . ." Last of all Brin, with the Family at midday, braiding he hair: "You are our Luck. Do it . . . but remember our nee of you! " Next day before the rising of Esto, we all turned out haul the Tomarvan to the top of the great rock. The machine rode easily over grass and rock; it wa well-balanced, live in our hands, like a bird eager to fl ( 92 ) s y e ry its he are een the her uth. long t the wonld have helneti. The shepherds, Varb's Five, had been warned; and we could see them standing aside by the fold. Certainly they had no need to fear. The glider was pointed far out into the inland meadows; its own shape would take it there if it refused to fly. Brin stood away from the ropes and looked out and down, fretting again because we had no wind chart. Diver and Mamor had taken readings from the rock and watched the course of the flitterlings, but a wind chart Once the Tomarvan was in position, Mamor and the Harper descended onto the plain. They were going to watch the landing, so they said, and keep an eye out for Petsalee or any other watcher. We all knew thev were Loinu Put n be I was ar the attern: If you ing her ur need d out to it was to fly - to pick up the pieces. Diver, in his woollen mask helmet and goggles, sat in the pilot's chair; the Tomarvan creaked and swayed a little in the morning wind. Diver was divided from us, and I was cold now, in spite of the climb. Brin stood apart coiling our good ropes over her bent arm; Narneen was crouched in my "tower room" among the bushes. I remembered the time of day; a gold rim of Esto stiowed above the horizon, and the Far Sun was still high in the sky, silvering the damp fields. I wished hard, I prayed, for some comforting sign from our protector. Be near us, I thought, our Luck is flying today! But there was no sign; no voice answered in my mind; no warming presence visited the summit of the rock. The morning wind, stronger than before, shook the vines and rocked at the tail vanes of the flying machine. Mamor high-called from the north and Roy from the southa it was rime I got into position as Diver rose in his chair for a last wind check. Brin stood to the other wing; we made hopeful signals to Diver, and when he lowered his arm, we cast off the runner ropes and shoved with all our might. The Tomarvan slid off the rock without a sound, and I nearly went with it. I had to fall flat and cling to an outcrop of rock. The Tomarvan was out in the air, nose a little upward, but the whole machine was falling. Then it rose and h steady in a longish gliding motion. Diver had caugh current of air that would take him safely down. Suddenly the machine checked visibly, shuddered, a began to climb to the north in a wide, jerky spiral. Th came back to us, on the rock, a thin sharp buzzing sou We saw that the spin-toys were in motion and with th the Tomarvan was transformed ... it was an engine. three of us-Brin, Narneen and myself-cried out excitement. Diver climbed still and curved, finding wi currents and urging the Tomarvan to follow them. From t plain came a cheer-Mamor, Roy, even the shepherds w waving their hands and dancing. The Tomarvan flew in a wide arc and swooped and again. It was not so much a bird as a bright insect, darti and buzzing and at times being lifted and carried by wind currents over the inland plain. Diver turned it ba drew in easily over the rock, stooped low over the fix house-where Gwin and Tomar would be standing on t roof-and crossed the river. I had time to be afraid; I sick and giddy, as if I were flying in the machine myse Diver had gone, he had flown off to the islands. The heard Narneen laughing as if she had read my though She had crawled up beside me, out of her niche, and n she laid a hand on my arm. "Here he comes again . . ." said Narneen. "Great North Wind!" whispered Brin. She stood tall a warm at our backs; her hair was unbound, she flung ba her head, watching the sky. I saw her as Eenath t spirit warrior, not a pouch-mother, ruling from the loo "Children," she said, "our Luck will win this Bird Cla The Tomarvan flew low over our heads, spin-toys whirri and flew out and round, crossing and recrossing the Tro wherever Diver wished it to fly. Diver flew every day after this proving flight, and became accustomed to caring for the Tomarvan, hol~ing ( 94 ) I in AU in ind the were d rose arting y the back, myself -rhen oughts. and now d tall and ung back enath the the 100M- ird Clanill s whirring, the Troon, its wings and so forth. Soon we prepared to leave Whiterock Fold and began sorting out our entry fee for the Bird Clan. I felt secure and happy: plenty of food and something to look forward to. But as I lay in the sleeping bag at night or in the early morning before the suns penetrated the Ulgan's house, I had moments of deep unbelief. Was this all happening? Was it some long dream and would I wake on Hingstull with the snow coming down? How was it possible to endure such changes? I looked at Tomar in his swing basket with a sort of fear; soon he would be grown, time would run away with him as it had with me, with all of us. How could I have believed, last spring, that Dorn Brinroyan could grow used to a fixed house and a flying machine? One night, while the last of the little darkness still held I was awakened by a cry. Narneen was sitting up in the sleeping bag crying out for a bad dream. I told her to lie down again, but she would not. She cried out, between sleeping and waking, until Brin came to her. I was burrow- ing down to sleep again, but the talking did not StOD and someone brought up Diver's magic lights. ". . . no dream," sobbed Narneen, "for I can listen again!' were auestioned?" asked Brin. name." "There were two, and they asked my name and my Five I was wide awake now. We all sat round Narneen, my young sib, and she had a staring, strange look in the cool light. Old Gwin had begun to chant softlv under her breath, a chant of i)raise for a blessing. "What does it mean?" asked Diver at my elbow I think it means that Narneen is a Witness Some other 'N itness has found and uestioned her " Rrin had her recite all that had happened from the I ffiought it was a dream," said Narneen. I was called and I answered to my name. Then the questioning we on, and it was inside my head." "It is a blessing," said Old Gwin, "a power wanting i our Family since my mother's birth Five, Abirin's Five. G on child . . ." "There is a Witness," said Narneen, "a female. On other questions through the Witness, for she asks always o behalf of another and sometimes speaks aside. She calle first of all, 'Narneen, Narneen'; then when I replied, sh asked my age and my Five name." "I don't like this! This is mere sleep-spying!" said th Harper. "I think you are right," said Brin, "and it is pure chanc that Narneen has strong powers and can wake and tell what has happened." Diver was baffled by all this, and we made shift explain. The minds of all Moruians have this linkin power, especially strong in childhood ... the same powe I supposed, by which the Maker of Engines made contac with me upon the rock. Children and young persons ca also be questioned in sleep, and it has been used for curiou purposes, good and evil. In one song the Harper sings, young weaver is called in her sleep by two hunters: "Wi you leave your mother's mat-loom and look for us at th Family Fair?" But there are also tales of this sleep-spyin being used for gain, to find out where a merchant's treasu is hidden. Old Gwin asked: "What did you tell them, child?" "My name, my age, my Five name ... the names of o Five. And then they asked a strange thing. Who was th newest member of our Five. So I told them Tomar new-shown." "Wait!" said Diver. "Was that what they wanted?" "No," said Narneen shrewdly, "it was you they wanted Diver dear, for they asked again, 'Has any stranger come to your Five, little Narneen?' " ( 96 ) e s 9 r, ct an us a ill the ing sure f our s the mar, 11 anted, me to I I shivered at this; too many thoughts were reaching out towards our Luck. Narneen turned to me and shook her head. "Don't be afraid, Dorn," she said, "for I know this questioner, I know this Witness. They speak the truth when they say they mean us no harm." "What did you answer them?" asked Brin "Nothing more!" said Narneen. "I cried out and broke the link for I was afraid " "It was right, I suppose," said Old Gwin, "but remember child, that a Witness should not lie, in reporting or in any question, mind-to-mind, else your sacred power s e- trayed. " "Hush," sighed Mamor, "this is weighty stuff for so young a child. I don't,like this whole business." Then Narneen was given a herb drink to make her sleep; but the rest of us found it hard to settle. Next day we packed up again, cleaned the Ulgan's house and prepared our new work for market. Mamor made sure the Ulgan's barge was waterworthy, and Diver prepared the Tomarvan for its journey downriver. I put Tomar on my back in his wicker carrying cradle and went up to the top of the rock, to bid farewell to Whiterock Fold. It was a day of bright sunshine, but to south and north, where we had come and where we were going, the river Troon was lost in shim- inering mist. When we were back on the barge, I expected another journey like the one from Cullin to WhiterorV Inn do c ^f 1 5 Y sun and shadow on the water. But I quickly learned that every voyage on the river is different and part of the difference is in our mood and d di We came back to the barge in darkness-what was left of it-and loaded our bird, our treasure, by the light of Diver's torches and swaddled it in the pieces of our tent. One or two fishers passed by as we were working but there I not much to De seen. I he F ar Sun was rking f,,]] and silvery, as we cast off, and our spirits began to come up just a little. The Troon took us back kindly, and Gwin's prayers for a wind were answered. We passed more boats ... they should have been fishers but instead of gray or black they were striped in bright colors. In the Far Sun light we could see the crews winding trails of green and red vines high on the masts and along the sail ropes. "What are they doing?" I cried to Brin, as we stood huddled against our wrapped flying machine. "What are they doing?" It was Diver asking the same question. Mamor, at the tiller, began to laugh. "I didn't think it would begin so soon!" And the crew of the nearest boat let out a strange hail, almost a high-call. "Lee-va-ban Otolor!" It was the fair-call, the cry for Otolor Great Fair. Suddenly we were in the midst of a wave of decorated boats . . . barges, fishers, birders, crossing-boats, even paddling mats with one bold swimmer and a tail of vines ... a fleet spread out across the full width of the Troon, stretching downriver as far as we could see. "But there are miles to go before we come to the fairground!" Still the cry echoed up and down the river. There zigzagged past a round-bottomed boat full of flowers and drunken shepherds, singing that spring was in the New, Year and the New Year was in the spring. We came, with the fleet, to the first hamlet, and then another soon after it, both on the west bank. These places were decorated too and their crossings full of craft, loading up and setting off for the fair. I saw at the second landing stage a Family of, weavers, true mountain folk and nomads, our own image. pointed them out to the Harper, who was tuning instrument in the stern. We watched them and hailed an high-called. There they stood, trembling, about to step on ( 98 ) ing the ood ame it at let Fair. orated , even tail of of the to the There ers and the New me, with n after it, rated too setting Of' Fam1lY O~ n image - I tuning his hailed and to step on 2 bird-boat-a sturdy Five, with leggings and a carrying sled of new work, perhaps not as fine as our own. Their hair was tied with bright skeins, and one mother wore a cream vented robe, heavy from her hidden child. Brin held up the wriggling excited Tomar in his little holiday wrapper, and the bush weavers saw us and took heart. Yet already I imagined that they looked upon us strangely ... we were of them and not of them, in our barge, with its strange cargo and Diver, standing among us in his sun-goggles. So it went on, the whole fleet scudding downriver under a fresh breeze, with as much noise as a fairground itself. About the rising of the Great Sun, the wind dropped, and there was a creaking of paddle wheels and much work with the paddles. The barge lumbered along, wedged in the crowd of smaller craft, and the talking and singing flowed naturally from deck to deck. We were excited and looked continually through the boats for Beeth Ulgan or for Gordo her apprentice, who was to meet us at the fair. Harper Roy sang and watched; I knew he had eyes out for trouble, even here. In particular he and I were on the lookout for that watcher ... the escaped twirler, Petsalee, who might be the Pentroy's creature. It was difficult in the midst of all this laughter to think of the long shadow cast by Tiath Gargan. We bartered food and ate well. I looked at the water, inching past between the boats, and had a perverse longing for those days alone on the water with only the flatbills for company. We knew there would be scarcely any darkness, but it was still difficult to sleep. I dozed, thinking of the white rock and the Maker of Engines. I tried to send out thoughts to this great personage: We are coming. We are on the river, bringing Diver, our Luck, to Otolor Spring Fair. Take care for us The Tomarvan took up most of our deck space, but there ~us room for one or two to nap out of the suns' light in a small tent. In the late afternoon it as my turn to go under the flap; Mamor pushed me in, and I found Tomar, asleep in his basket at last, and Narneen. We were coming to the largest village before Otolor, in a flat calm; there was not a breath of wind on the Troon, and we could hear the creaking of paddles below the shouts and songs of the merrymakers. I lay down and really slept for about an hour, then I woke suddenly with Narneen urgently strok- ing my cheek. "What is it?" "Ssh," she whispered, "let Tomar sleep." There was a thin, unchildish look about her. "I am called again by the same Witness." "Who is it? Shall I get the others? Is there danger?" "No, it is friendly. Dorn ... I see them. It is two persons, Witness and Questioner. They do not know how clearly I hear and see." "What do they ask?" "My Five name, the same as before. What shall I answer?" "The truth." I said, "Remember what Gwin said? But steer clear of our Luck. Narneen ... I must fetch the others. " "No, no ... you still don't understand. They are close. We are going to sail past them. They are standing on the east bank by a landing stage, right now." "We could see them!" "Yes!" said Narneen, her long eyes blazing. "Go to Diver, get the seeing glass, you know? Look to the landing stage for a tree, and there they stand. The Witness is short, female, wearing a gray tunic like a town worker. The Questioner is male, older, in a straight blue robe and a straw shade-hat with a veil. He wears this. . . ." Narneen drew breath and bit her lips but went on. "He hides his face because it is horribly ugly. It is burned, I think, on one side." ( 100 ) 2 "Will you come with me?" to ing rt, he d a een f ace one "I will lie here," she whispered, "and answer their questions, so that they stand still." I tumbled out onto the deck into the bright sunlight and the singing, paddling riverful of travellers going to the fair I found Diver beside the wrapped wing of the Tomarvan and gasped it out to him "Where are thev?" He had the glass and let me search the east bank. We were past the landing stage of Geelar, the large village, but some way beyond it another small Jet stood out besid spreading red-wood tree on the river's edge. I shivered although the day was hot. There they stood, exactly as Narneen had described them. I saw the quiet, listening face of the Witness, the odd, straight cut of her short hair, the broad silver band clasped around one sleeve. The Ques- tioner stood like a pillar of gray rock; his face was youngish, p-ale and fine; the veil of his hat, half drawn, hid any scars. Diver examined them and Brin, when she came up and heard the story. Old Gwin went at once to Narneen in the tent I tie Questioner wears a scribe's pouch," said Brin. Her voice was hard and angry, full of mistrust. "That's not all . - ." growled Mamor. "I can read the garments of those two like a new skein. They come from Tsagul, the Fire-Town." We were so close now that we scarcely needed the glass to see their features. Instinctively we bent down and approached the tent flap. Narneen lay on her back, eyes U all S g L ess, her body stiff. .1 omar began whimper- ing, and I crawled inside and went to him. He chuckled anti was happy again when I came to him, and I felt a new love for my younger sib, a comradeship. I was pretty sure he would never become a Witness. Old Gwin prayed continu- v beside Narneen butdid nnt 1, A 4 4C I moments Narneen shut her eyes, went limp, then s up-an ordinary weaver's child, full of mischief. "They ar going," she said. At the same time the Harper gave a whistle from tf. bows, which meant: "birds flown". I turned to a hole in th tent and caught a last glimpse, between two boats passin of the gray-clad Questioner moving away, limping. Brin reached into the tent and took Narneen by th hands. "Now child," she said, "you must give account of wh passed, like a true Witness." "They asked as before," said Narneen, "starting with m age and my Five name. And this time I answered all thes things truly." "Did they give reasons. "No, but many promises of friendship. The Questione was very particular about meaning no harm." "What else?" "They asked me about Stone Brook. Had I ever lived a Stone Brook on Hingstull, in a cave. And I said indeed had." We were mystified at this and could find no reason for it "Then they asked the names of all my Family, but I di not answer clearly. J sang and said I could not hear th question." "You sang?" asked Diver. "I sang inside my head," said Narneen. "Have you nev done it? It blocks questioning. So next they began, gently, to ask all the things we did ... and I admitted to weaving, of all kinds, and to hunting and to playing harp music. I hope that was not wrong . . ." "Of course not," said Brin, "you have done very we "But there was more," said Narneen. "They as could read and I told them truly I knew my wove and part of the written. Then they went on ... that my Five could read and weave message skeins. An ( 102 ) y ese ed at eed I for it. t I did ar the u never gently, eaving, Music. I well." ked if I en script .1 agreed eins. And they asked about making pictures, drawn victures. blue ink on white willow paper." Narneen's voice trembled for the first time and her upper lip crinkled, for weeping. "I said yes, one among us did such drawings. Then I sang and wouldn't answer, for remembered . . Diver gave a startled exclamation in his own tongue. He drew aside and spoke to Brin and Mamor, then turned to comfort Narneen, assuring her that she had done no harm. We all understood, more or less; I saw us in the cave at Stone Brook with the blizzard coming down, teaching Diver new words while he drew us pictures. By some means those pictilres had reached this scribe from the Fire-Town. "Ah, but they said one other thing that makes it certain," said Narneen sadly. "They spelled a word to me. They asked if I knew what is M-A-N." She spoke the sounds in our tongue ... and we remembered still more. Diver had drawn his own race: a male, a female; then some common objects: a tent, a chair from a fixed house, a sort of wool-deer; and Brin had lettered in our own sounds below his script. I said no more," said Narneen, "at least I answered no more. But I asked. The Witness is called Onnar; I asked quickly, and she replied before she could think of other things. And the Questioner-" "You Lot his name?" asked Brin "He is Vel Ragan," said Narneen. She lay back sleepily on the folded bags. "He is a scribe from the Fire-Town, Tsagul. He was surprised when I asked the Witness what burned his face." "What did he reply?" chuckled Gwin. "Cheeky wretch to question a child in this way." I think he said it was a firestone ... a clinger." We shuddered and fell silent at the thought of this terrible violence, brought close to us. Firestone clingers were a fabled device for evil clan-creatures and grandees' quarrels, not for honest mountain folk. I burst out, finally, as I rocked Tomar inside the tent. "But there is still the mystery of how they reached Narneen!" I know the answer to that," said Diver heavily. So it was explained, and we remembered. Diver had drawn Nar- neen's picture, and Brin had marked it with her name. I have brought this upon the child," said Diver. We all spoke together, reassuring him. We could not bear it when he spoke in this way, or blamed himself. "Diver," said Narneen, I know one thing ... they spoke truth. They will do us no harm." The wind had risen, so we could use sail, but still the press of small boats bound for the fair was so heavy we could make no speed at all. When I put Tomar on my back and went on deck, the land had changed around us. We were sailing through tamed country, with fence ropes and bird farms and food gardens on either side of the river. I found Diver sitting astern beside the shaded spinner- basket, lifting the flap to give them sun, as Gwin had taught him to do. An ancient weaver, on the deck of a bird-boat, cried out to him: "Two new hatched . . . for a whole keg of good sunner?" "Forgive us!" said Diver. "These beauties are not for sale." "Too bad," cackled the ancient, turning back to his braiding frame. "Ours died a'winter." I sat on the deck, with Tomar between my knees playing with a string of dried seed gourds. My sib was stron and brown, with his first-fur already lifting. There w!s no doubt that we had the best baby and the best Luck and the best barge and even the best spinners in the world. Far in; the distance, between the bird farm nets and the no shi skeins, I could see one, two balloons tethered, riding abQ the walls of the city of Otolor. The Bird Clan was near. 104 e e ck e nd g of for his ying and s no d the ar in shing above ear. ( 105 ) THE LAUNCHER WORE A SCARLET ROBE, kilted up with a cord under his belly, to show his fat, pasty legs and leather boots. "Va-ban!" he shouted in a voice of thunder. The Bird ~Clan vassals heaved on the ropes; Diver, Mamor and the Harper steadied the framework. Tomarvan slid up the ramp to the level of the Bird Clan grounds. The vassals lifted it bodily onto the wheeled wicker cradle and trundled our precious bird into the enclosure. The Launcher surveyed it calmly, hands on his waist. "Cullin!" he cried. "Where in blazes will they come from next! Every bush weaver is Antho, this time o' year. And why don't ye fly it in . . . eh? eh? Because flaming thing won't fly, do you suppose?" "It will fly," said Diver. He loomed up at the Launcher's side, and the fellow flinched at his height. Diver looked as impressive as we could make him; it was a time for dressing-up, not for hiding away. He wore his own blue suit and, as a cloak, a magnificent silk hanging, one of Gwin's treasures, ordered and not paid for, long ago, by Elbin Tsatroy, a mad old grandee, one of the last of her clan. The fire clan emblem blazed forth, flame on ochre; suns and stars whirled over the silk. I wondered, each time I saw it, how Gwin and her first-Family, Tarr's Five, could, weave and embroider such a fiery piece of work. Diver's hair was a sandy red; his hood was pale blue, over a basket helm, worn by fliers, and he had his own goggles. "Peace, sir!" said the Launcher. "I believe you. Now, the matter of your fee and escort." We were perfectly prepared; old Gwin had even re- hearsed us in the. proper responses, but in fact the ceremo- ny was not formal. At least two persons must escort aflier into the enclosure, and it is traditional that females are lucky ... because they partake of the nature of the North Wind, our Great Mother. So Brin was first escort, and my prayers were answered, I was the second. Mamor was needed to berth the Ulgan's barge and the Harper to earn credits with his playing. They had withdrawn to the barge while I stood shivering next to Brin at the top of the slope, beside the booth where a pair of scribes entered the records. The Launcher bowed, as if we were all grandees, and I was pleased that Brin, at any rate, was a splendid person, straight and tall. I stepped forward and presented the fee. "On the bench, my friend," said the Launcher. "What have we here?" He examined the bolts of cloth-fine, plain work of three weights and an embroidered robe for good measure-then counted the silver credits. It was correct for him to chaffer a little; he must either demand more or hand a little back. The scribes were feeling the robe and twitching their eyebrows. "Fly or not, you can certainly weave," the Launcher muttered. He counted three credits back into my hand; I bowed and uttered the correct response. Brin signed our names and knotted them into the skeins. The elder scribe, a sharp-eyed ancient with a Wentroy pectoral, handed out our tokens: wood and metal on elegant braids of blue ~ilk. Still tight-browed, we had only time to wave to the others ( 106 ) he e re- 0- ier are rth my was earn arge ope, rds. i was rson, fee. What three hen affer a back. their uncher and; I ed our cribe, a ed out ue silk. e others friends!" she ordered. The "spies" all scrambled up and drew back a little, then scattered suddenly, on an impulse from elsewhere. Another on the barge; Narneen waved a green branch, Old Gwin held up Tomar. They all chorused, "Good Luck" to Diver; Mamor shouted something encouraging to me. The barrier was lifted again, and we strode into the Bird Clan. We found ourselves on the lower edge of an enormous tilted field, larger by far than the whole fairground at Cullin, and turfed with tough brown grass. Oval tents, for quartering the machines, blossomed all around, and beside them, to show what exalted company we kept, were the little field tents of the grandees, panelled in silk an& decorated with banners. A vassal in the familiar blue green of the Bird Clan ran up and bowed. "Garl Brinroyan? Ablo, your humble servant and me- chanic. This way, gentles . . ." He led us to Tomarvan, outside its tent. Five or six of his fellow vassals, all younger and nimbler than Ablo himself, were standing or crouching or lying on the grass, examining the machine most minute- ly. 0 "Away!" shouted Ablo. "Flaming spies! Get to your own broken-winged flitterboxes!" He seized Diver by the arm. "Send them away, Excellence . . . they must not know its capacities!" Diver laughed, drawing off his own strange five-fingered gloves, and the vassals drew up short at the sound of his voice. "Peace," he said. "The capacities of the Tomarvan are no secret. " "Excellence," begged Ablo, "noble escorts ... the vas- sals carry tales and make bets." He lowered his voice and moved closer. "They often have a Witness or an apprentice Diviner who can guess the place this machine will fly and the round that it will reach." "If you say so," said Brin, smiling. She reached down and dragged a small vassal from beneath the wing. "Begone ( 107 ) pilot was approaching; I stared, taking in a grandee. Spare, short, businesslike, magnificently dressed in dark red over- alls and cloak, a flowing black wig, and with a basket helm of white, dangling from one long hand, marked with a crest. I bent sideways to read it. Two blue flax flowers. Luntroy, one of the oldest of the five clans. "Jebbal!" said the newcomer in a bright, harsh voice. Diver bowed and gestured towards the Tomarvan as if to say: "Look well" or "Be my guest". jebbal circled warily, twirling the spin-toys with a fingertip; Diver was on hand, with the respectfully chatter- ing Ablo to point out various refinements. Brin touched my arm, and we moved quickly to raise our own field tent. I saw the townee vassals struggling with the grandees' beautiful butterfly houses, but our plain green, with a banner for Cullin, went up in record time. Brin looked around at the hangars and field tents and stalls; some fliers and their escorts were eating and drinking at legged tables of wood and carpet-cloth, set upon the grass. She whistled for a little greasy-headed vassal, the same she had draaued from under the wing, and sent me off with him, clutching two silver credits. Presently after a discreet scrimmage with some others of about our size outside two of the stalls, we had a table and a tray of refreshments. When jebbal and Diver came up for air, Brin bowed and bade them sit down. jebbal looked us up and down. "Bush weavers, eh? Is this your officer, Garl Brinroyan?" "Not so, Highness," said Brin easily, "I have the honor to be the head of Garl's Family. Brinroyan, of Gwin's blood and Tarr's Five and the distant mothering of Abirin, Felin, Felrin and Narbreen. We have lived and woven upon~ Hingstull for more than a great five of years, on land now owned by the Great Elder." "Good luck to you!" jebbal sat down and sampled,the fruit wine. "Whose is that stripling?" she asked. "Come on, ( 108 ) young Hazel, who is your pouch-mother?" "I am Dorn Brinroyan," I stammered, "and Brin is my mother. " "Wind save us!" cried jebbal, rude as ever. "I respect mothering above all things! You may not guess it, Friend Brin, but I pouched four sucklings before I took up flying. You must send Dorn to my tent to play with my younger clan-brats. Not all Luntroy-which is a mild clan, as you will find-but infused with Galtroy wildness." "We know a Hiahness of Galtro " I babbl" "Indeed?" she grinned. "Well I guess that it is my cross-cousin Rilpo. He hunts in the mountains. Yes? I thought so. " e ed he ad M eet w 0 ts. and ? Is onor lood elm, upon now d the e On, She took up a handful of crystal fruits from the table and began to play Hold Stone, a game for two players. We had played three or four hands together-jebbal was winning-when I looked up and saw Brin and Diver laughing aloud at the pair of us. jebbal was like the taste of the crystal fruits: tart, sweet, surprising. She had only two loves in the world: flying and children; everything else we found, bored her "utterly to death". I Jebbal, having checked out the Tomarvan and declared that it would probably fly but hadn't a chance against the favorites, led Diver and me to marvel at her machine. It was certainlv verv beautiful: a double im roved Pdal fnn tv;th an enormous wingspan and lighter than a feather. It was called Peer-lo-vagoba, which means, more or less, "Forever Soaring in the Blue". While Diver was examining this wonder, I looked for the wild clan-brats; I was anxious-perhaps they would eat me alive. When I peered into the dark red silken tent, I sighed with relief and a touch of disappointment. The two sprigs were nothing like their fierce mother: the male, Valdin, was taller than me and older, the female, Thanar, a little younger. They were beautiful, I admitted, and richly dressed, but timid and engrossed in strange games The I ~~ A~l i had been at the Bird Clan every year for four years and were still afraid of the young townee vassals who bullied them when the escort was not looking. I sat in the stuffy tent and tried to learn their bead placing; there was no doubt they were grandees-they squabbled in sharp voices and their moods changed. Finally I took out a credit and suggested we buy honeycups at the stalls. "Those flaming vassals will catch and beat us," whis- pered Valdin. "Not while I'm around!" I said firmly. "It's dishonorable to go about without an escort," said Thanar, "for us, I mean." "Oh come on, I'll be your officer!" So we slipped under the back flap and marched boldly to the nearest. stall. A few of the young vassals did attempt to jostle us, but I made a feint and sent the largest one into a mud puddle. "Hands off all cubs of Highness Jebbal!" I said. "For I am their officer!" The townees murmured about Mountain Beasts. "Yes ... and I will fall on you like a mountain wolf!" I said. We went back to the tent and ate our honeycups. The "cubs" were thrilled with their adventure. They talked confidingly of the place they liked best, a villa on the salt marsh to the east owned by their Galtroy kin, where they had a little sailboat. The difference between grandees and mountain folk was suddenly illustrated. "In ten days then," said Thanar, "we will go to the villa at Salthaven to be with our father." I blushed, and Valdin looked at me sideways. "It is no shame," he said. "Jebbal has a pair-marriage with Faldo Galtroy. He is our father." "We follow the old threads. . . ." I muttered. There was a mirror of silvered glass on their tent wall, and I had not seen my own face for some time. I loo6d ( 110 ) now, and the two Galtroys smiled. "Oh come, Dorn," cried Thanar, sweetly. "What do you see? Does it help you to find a father?" I looked in the mirror and saw what I had always seen, in mountain pools, perhaps, or the Ulgan's metal cooking pots or a glassed window in a fixed house. "Yes," I mumbled. "I see which is my father." I had hazel eyes, a strong, squarish face; everyone who saw me in our family or out of it must have known at once; I looked exactly like Mamor. Before I left, with Diver, I saw jebbal with the two children, absorbed in their games, chivying them a little, like a mother and a child at the same time. I trailed on the way back to our tent-the bright days never seemed to end, and there was never time to sleep-trying to piece together all I had learned about grandees. They were something like a honeycup, a treat now and then; or perhaps they were like a visit to the fair, an excitement once a year. There was too much jebbal did not know about her children: they feared and hated the Bird Clan and were all for sailing at Salthaven. But I still found the Bird Clan a marvellous place, except that our Five could not be together. "Enough!" said Brin, standing over me. "Sleeping bag for this noble escort." I staggered into our green tent. "Wake me . . . wake me if anything else happens!" There were fifteen entries in the Bird Clan rounds that spring, the highest for twenty years. Most flew in and were in signalled down. A few came to the river gate as we had done and were wheeled into the enclosure. A red and white ge Antho, with a dirigible rudder and two small balloons called ere rose. It made a few daring and illegal passes over the vast nd complex of fairgrounds across the river and hovered over ked the citadel of Otolor on its island where the stream divided. wind-catchers flew in from the west as the Great Sun ( III ) Then it flew in steadily to land, but the wind-catchers worked too well. It was twisted up into a spiral of warm air, the balloons became interlocked, then one deflated over the pilot's chair. The machine blundered down, bounced, with a scattering of marshals and vassals, then splayed its runners and broke a wing. The pilot, a young Dohtroy, climbed out cursing. It was not the first elimination. Three of the earlier arrivals had elected to do their first exercises on the first day, while I slept. Two were traditional gliders, the third, a strange patched-up craft called Tildee, entered by a mer- chant from Rintoul. One of the gliders snapped in half at the starting blocks, the other, a silver gray, piloted by another sprig of the peaceable Dohtroy clan, caught its air currents well and soared normally. The Tildee took off and flew doggedly with a thrusting motion, which Brin de- scribed to me. Diver laughed and shook his head. "Tildee will be hard to beat!" "That one?" I asked, "but it is ill-made, of patched fabric." ."This merchant . . . is his name Mattroyan? been dabbling in fire-metal-magic." . . has "True, Excellence," put in Ablo, "you are a good judge machines. For I have seen this ugly Tildee on the groundi~ it rings when a hand hits the panels, and it gives off a stink. White air comes in puffs through wooden pip behind the pilot's chair." "What merchandise does Mattroyan sell?" asked Diver. He was fishing for information but could not ask more plainly in front of Ablo. "Excellence, he is a tanning-factor who runs horri hide-boats up and down the coast of the Great Ocean Sea. Ablo grimaced as he told it. "He visits Itsik." As soon as I had a chance, I explained about Itsik to Diver."It is a strange place, barely respectable, between ( 112 ) d a of it ot ipes iver ore orrid Sea." sik to tween Rintoul and the Fire-Town, on the coast. "Go to Itsik" or "Go back to Itsik" is a common insult meaning, "You have not washed . . . you stink". All the burning, the tanning of hides, the curing of fish, the rendering of fat and lamp oil necessary for the great city of Rintoul is done at Itsik. Lawbreakers are sometimes sent to Itsik for a term, or if their offence is less serious, to Gavan in the east, on the salt marshes. As I told this, we were wandering around the edges of the ground, between the tents and hangars, a pilot and his young escort. We came to Mattroyan's hangar, where Tildee was housed out of sight, guarded by an escort of monstrous omor. Mattroyan himself came out presently: a burly brute who put me in mind of no one so much as Hunter Geer, although he wore very fine garments of silk and wool floss. The pilot was with him, a young, dark- skinned, blood-haired flier, with a strong likeness to Matt- royan. "Must be the merchant's child," whispered Diver "Yes, but don't say so if you speak to him." "I'll remember my manners," said Diver. "I must not say your child' to a male person. Only'a child of your Famil ' " We staved at a discreet distance ho ever and did not approach the merchant "I wonder how this custom came about?" asked Diver "Is it because a nerson's familv tree is reckoned from mother to mother." "Partly. And partly because the child belongs to the family, not to any person. To say 'your child' to a pouch-mother does not mean that she owns the child. But if the child has, well, a father singled out . . . Do you understand?" "Partly," said Diver A splendid craft lit down: a double tier of scalloped wings, the upper span set forward and both activated in a flapping motion. We went through the tents and saw the pilot being lifted out by the escort; the Wentroy crest, a bird's head, was on their tunics. They had hardly time to set their Highness upright before the clappers were sounded all around the field and three more entrants began their exercises. Two were set in the blocks attached to the launching catapults and the third had chosen the tower. The Launcher stood on his platform, far away across the field, but when he shouted through his gourd, the sound seemed to echo around the world. "U-va-ban!" The vassals hauled the lever and stood from the drums on the first catapult and a yellow Antho sailed off, straight and light. "Uto-va-ban!" A black glider with an enormous wing- span went up and twisted from the second catapult. "Yo-va-ban!" All eyes were on the tower. It was taller than the tallest tree, and flimsy, with crazy ladders and a ramp for the flying machines. More points were allotted for a tower takeoff; it made me feel dizzy just to see the vassals crawling on the upper beams, and I was mountain-bred. Diver and I stood near the tower's base, and we could see through the maze of bentw,ood poles and flax ropes to the very runners of the machine. It was squarish, rather ugly, like a child's kite, with the pilot spread in its rigging. There was a twang, and the thing was launched, soaring down from the tower in a long curving arc, lower and lower over the field. just as we felt sure it must ground, the blunt nose turned upward and the "Kite" rose gracefully. The pilot caught one of the mapped currents over the field, "stole the wind" of the black glider and went into the qualifying turns. The black glider, called Hadeel, staggered in the air and shook, then the pilot, who was very skillful, bore straight upward, in the only current near enough, and reeled into the turns. The yellow Antho, meanwhile, flew carefully in circles further down the field. Its turns were in fact oval ... not true circles; all gliders had this difficulty on circular turns. ( 114 ) see the gly ' ere own over nose Pilot e the fying e air bore and flew ere in culty This was not a speed test; when the three machines had done the turns and performed any simple maneuvers that the pilot felt the marshals must see, they lit out, one after the other, to the First Mark, inland to the east. Another tower was there, and to complete these first exercises the machines must round it and come back to land. These three easily completed their exercises, but later that day two machines were not so lucky. A pedal fan that had come upriver from Linlor on a barge tipped the First Mark and blundered into a strange craft, one of Diver's favorites, a dirigible balloon that everyone had christened "The Pod". The wretched pedal fan twisted away and came down in the sandy plain beyond the First Mark, which is called Gwervanin or Bird Bone Place, because so many fine machines have fallen there. When this happens, according to the threads, the pilot should climb out and walk away from the wreck "without looking back". The machine must lie where it has fallen, struck down by the winds' bane, unless another can send it into the air again, proving that the winds have been appeased. So Diver soon came to understand that we had acted correctly in "refloating" the Tomarvan. This judge- ment of the winds could be harsh; in old times it had been a subiect of debate at the Bird Clan and throu hout Torin as to whether an injured pilot could be dragged out of a wrecked machine. There had been quarrels between the clans on the one hand and the weavers and townspeople on the other, for the common folk would not leave a pilot to suffer. They rushed straight in, chanting to avert the winds' bane, and rescued a fallen flier This day the pilot of the pedal fan did climb out unharmed and limped back, shame-faced, to the enclosure. "The Pod", poor creature, struggled round the First Mark and flew back leaking. It touched down with a loud, sad, hissing sound, like a giant tree-bear, and the beautiful striped casing crumpled slowly before our eves. The two pilots, a pair of young town grandees from Otolor, stood and wept. The third machine to exercise at this time was Peer-lo-vagoba, and jebbal was in fine form. She made a perfect tower takeoff, exquisite circular turns and a quick, clear run to the First Mark. She was given a special ovation as the only one of this group to survive the test, for clearly she had "averted the winds' bane" or proved her superior skill. I was determined to stay awake for a full thirty hours or more until the lists closed at the next rising of Esto. At about the third hour past midday the marshals came and told Diver to get ready for his first exercises. He had inspected the launching catapults carefully, with Ablo, and decided to use one, rather than the tower. The weather was perfect, with a great head of white cloud coming in from the east to provide a wild current besides the ones that lived over the field. There were only two machines exercising at the time: Tomarvan and Utofarl, or Double Hope, the splendid Wentroy flap-wing. The Wentroy pilot and a numerous escort took the field proudly. Too proudly, I thought, knees knocking as I shaped up with Brin and Diver for the formal salute. I had the luck skein in my hand, ready to exchange, but we stood there, emptily waiting, and the Wentroy contingent went straight to their catapult without a glance in our direction. I heard Ablo, the mechanic, muttering angrily behind me and turned to Brin, questioning. :,We've been insulted?" whispered Diver. 'The Wentroy insults itself!" she replied. "Dorn? You know the next part?" My knees knocked so that I could hardly run, but I did it; and the piece of ritual was unexpected: Bird Clan formality had fallen away of late. I ran out into the field and threw the luck skein, which the Wentroy had ignored, high'into the air. I expected it to come back down again and lie discarded in the field, but there was a -gasp from those watching: ( 116 ) Wentroy's rudeness had already swelled the crowd. The long silken skein was caught in a current and whirled upwards in a broad spiral. The winds had accepted my offering, and the Wentroy's luck was tossing round and round above the ground like a seed. The Wentroy escort, young and old, could hardly restrain themselves; they must catch the skein, the most foolhardy pilot could not allow it to be carried off or dashed to the ground once the wind had taken it. I saw the old Wentroy scribe speak to the pilot, and at last the word was given. The escort swarmed over the field, jostling, eyes on the sky, hands uplifted. Brin 11 A 11 -1 L 11, 13 AX 1r_ no e , an we t ree wa e o to the marvan. The crowd laughed and cheered and clapped palms against their buttocks; I realized they were applauding us. Now we thought our first trial was really at hand; Diver was in the pilot's chair, the catapult was attached, Brin and I stood to one wing, Ablo to the other. Diver had already given a few runs to his spin-toys, which made the vassals duck their heads. But suddenly the clappers sounded; there was a confusion of marshals and a loud chopping buzz in the air above our heads. A large winged shadow dipped and zoomed across the field, and its buzzing was echoed by the crowd. The Launcher on his platform was speaking to a larae escort of more than twentv Dersons in black and white quartering. Now he spoke on the hailing gourd "Diver!" Brin reached up, trying to pat his arm in the chair. "He is addressing you directly . "Tomarvan pilot . . . how say you? Will you give leave for a new entrant to make a display?" A marshal had come up with another hailing gourd; he I gave it to Diver, who looked down at Brin with raised eyebrows. "It is a shame!" cried Ablo. "You need not give leave, Garl Brinroyan; you need not! He asks because you are in who asks this leave?' " So Diver spoke into the gourd, and his voice echoed sharply across the field. "Noble Launcher, who asks this leave?" "Truly it is Murno Peran Pentroy up there, who asks leave." Diver hesitated, the crowd was still; he looked at me and saw how I gaped with excitement. "I give my leave. I give my leave freely to this noble contestant!" said Diver. There was another spatter of applause as the Launcher boomed his thanks. Diver climbed down, and we went back behind the barrier. A hand plucked at Brin's sleeve, and there was jebbal Luntroy's officer, a tall ancient, who bade us follow around the enclosure to jebbal's viewing stand, a little row of raised seats outside her tent. There was jebbal, lounging and smiling, in her red gear. "Take a seat, gentle friends," she said. "Let's see what flaming marvel Blacklock has to offer!" So I sat down at Brin's feet on the grass and watched the black and white escort march onto the field. My friends Valdin and Thanar came and sat beside me, chattering excitedly, but I could hardly speak. I was in a dream state, about to see Blacklock for the first time, and my excitement was tempered with a strange dreaming sadness. I ranged in a moment from the here and now at the Bird Clan in Otolor far, far back to our tent on Hingstull. The warmth of the spring sun on my arms became the scratching cold of winter, and I saw Odd-Eye's face. "I have dreams for you, as fine as Blacklock's mantle." The incoming machine swooped and circled; Diver stood up, flinging back his helmed head to observe it. It was sleek but short-winged with a large whirling vane, a giant spin-toy, mounted centrally; we could see wing-flaps and a dirigible tail. It caught the currents and used them, but it had a curious thrusting motion as well, and suddenly it ( 118 ) hovered, like a water-fly. The escort had formed a circle in the middle of the field; now they ran in together like dancers and quickly drew back again. I heard myself squeak with excitement. They had unfurled a huge net. The machine hovered, increased height, and at last I thought I could see movement by the pilot's chair. Then separating, failing, a bundle of cloth, but moving, surely . . . a body, struggling, flapping arms in the air. I stood up with all the others and screamed like them, and a great bubble of silken cloth stretched and blossomed over the falling body. A tall Moruian in a shiny green flying suit floated down calmly under the green canopy, bounced deliberately in the net two or three times, then skillfully stood still and drew the folds of the silk together. Blacklock had come to the Bird Clan. Everyone laughed and cheered; I had never heard such a slapping of buttocks. Even in this very first exploit that I had witnessed, there was some of that special magic that made Blacklock's audience laugh, even in sheer relief. Diver was laughing too; Brin leaned down and touched my shoulder. I saw that the flying machine was moving away to land at the end of the field, with a second pilot, of course, whom no one remarked greatly. The crowd was streaming onto the field to cheer Blacklock, so I took the clan children by the hand and ran with them. We managed to wriggle in fairly close, followed by Jebbal's officer. Between the shoulders of two vassals holding the net we saw him: tall as a tree, broad as an omor, his helm was off now, and he seemed to be beaming straight at us. Blacklock is the handsomest Moruian anyone can imagine; he has a rather broad, jolly face and his skin is tanned, like a bush weaver's, with no trace of grandee pallor. His eyes are wide as a baby's and set well into his temples; they are a clear yellow brown. He has an enormous shock of light brown, almost blonde hair, and from his brow there flows back a broad black streak of dye ... his black lock. ( 119 ) I As we all gaped and cheered, the circle of the escort parted at the very place we were standing, and a little creature, a female in the black and white uniform of the escort, cleared a space and reached up to the net. Blacklock gave a final flourishing bow, shrugged out of the thongs that held on his green canopy, then took her hand and stepped out of the net. He allowed himself to be brushed down, then the little escort was making way for him through the crowd. She had a brisk, cheerful voice, and her face, as she led the hero, was creased with worry, like a mother fussing over a toddling baby, ten days shown. Yet it was a pretty face, young and pointed, rather like Thanar. Blacklock was saying as he passed, ". . . didn't even split a seam. . . ." I felt a stab of envy for the little escort, Blacklock's familiar. "That is Spinner," whispered Valdin Galtroy, reading my thoughts, "Blacklock's first officer ... or maybe his mothering nurse." Now Spinner was whispering urgently to Blacklock, who was still bowing to right and left. "What?" boomed the hero. "Hmm, yes, well . flaming courteous of the flier in the blocks . . ." He waved his hand in a wide circle or two and shouted a command; the escort packed up and made tracks with admirable precision. I realized that it was Diver's turn to fly his exercises; I left the clan children and ran back through the crowd to do my escort duty. The clappers were sounding, and the Launcher repeated his orders to clear the field; I found Brin and clung to her arm. Diver was beside us, showing his teeth in a grin. His nerve was much better than mine; he was keen and eager to be in the Tomarvan. It came to me that Diver loved to fly; the time he spent above the ground was actually less nerve-wracking for him than the time he spent hobnobbing with Bird Clan pilots and officials. So it was all done over again. The excitement had died ( 120 ) down, and the fickle audience of the Bird Clan had drifted away, so that Diver and the Wentroy began their rounds almost unnoticed. Ablo was still fuming and fretting by the Tomarvan, and Diver leaped into the pilot's chair. The catapult was attached; Brin and I stood to one wing, Ablo to the other. Diver looked down at us and said, "There goes the Mac chi me to beat!" We saw Blacklock's odd craft wheeled away through the barrier to a heaving mass of black and white cloth: its hangar being erected. I had time to read the name on Blacklock's machine, then the Launcher spoke, once, twice and the Tomarvan was sent aloft, followed by Utofarl, double hope of the Wentroy. We marched smartly off the field; Brin and Ablo stood, shading their eyes, and I ran, bent low inside the barrier, to the end of the field to see better. Diver had made a good launch, but not so good as the Wentroy, who caught a wild current, lucky wretch, and spiralled up as surely as the good luck skein, so rudely rejected. Then I laughed, for the t Tomarvan eased into a series of perfect circular turns and a double circle, twisted, like the script letter which has the sound "ee". aThere was a chuckle at my side, and I saw that I was'fit. I thstanding next to a short, spare, brown person, probably lyfrom some escort, for he was middle-aged, with wrinkles ghnetting his green eyes. No grandee, more of a townee, and I ,refelt at ease with him. He was watching Diver's performance eas keenly as I was. The Wentroy tried to steal Diver's wind ideand could not, for Diver had no need of a wind. The circles, with fair success, then caught the wind again . . . through skill this time . . . and flew off towards the First Mark, high and fast. Diver flew after him in the darting, buzzing Tomarvan. 121 -ter ban and died Tomarvan banked and turned; the Wentroy tried a few "Fine! Fine! Oh excellently done! Is that your pilot?' said my companion "My pilot!" I agreed proudly. I tried not to think of Bird Bone Place, up ahead. I was about to reply in kind when I saw the insignia on his tunic and the white basket helm dangling from his strong, brown hands. I was speaking to Blacklock's copilot, who had landed the machine. I was excited then and almost went off into a flurry of childish questions about Blacklock, but something held me back. Politeness, for my companion was interesting in himself; or perhaps I had a moment of divining power of my own. I asked instead, "Good sir, who designed the noble machine that you brought in to land?" His green eyes twinkled as he replied. "A good design is never the work of one mind. Your pilot, for instance, adapted that glider, with a device I call a wind-blade. Not new upon the land of Torin . I felt my blood pound in my throat and answered boldly, "Nothing is new under the suns. I see your craft is called Dah'gan or Maker of Engines." "It could be Maker of Looms!" He laughed. "What shall I call you, young escort?" "Dorn Brinroyan. And my pilot is Garl Brinroyan, our Luck. What shall I call you, sir?" I had thought for a moment that he knew something about Diver, but now I was not sure. "I have had several names," he said, "just as we all have several Families, from our birth Family onwards, as the Great Wind blows us through the world. Now I am called Fer Utovangan." It was a plain name, signifying no more than Fer, the Second Pilot, or even the Other Wing-Maker. He pointed across the field to a certain glider and commented on its design, then went on talking pleasantly and knowledgeably about flying machines and every sort of device that helped them to fly. We heard a sound and I stiffened, then I could not hold back a cheer. The Tomarvan returned, fast and sure from the First Mark; Diver swooped low over the field ( 122 ) , the inted n its eably elped could t and e field and boldly circled the launching tower before coming in to land. There was a landing net in position, but Diver had never used one and had determined to use only his own power. The marshals were there to hold his wings, but I could not stay . . . I slipped under the barrier and my companion did the same. We ran to the left wing of the Tomarvan, which touched, bounced, but not high, then came in for a perfect landing. The wing rode right into our hands, and the spin-toys or wind-blades were quivering but Sill ti Diver climbed out as I shouted to him; he came down happily and stood beside us on the field. In his excitement he pulled off his goggles as well as his flying helmet, and I instinctively touched his arm. Hiding his eyes was a game we must always play. He turned his head aside, but Fer Utovangan said quietly, "No need to replace your visor on my account, Gar] Brinroyan." Diver glanced at me, questioning. "This is Blacklock's copilot," I said warily, "called Fer Utovangan." "A good flight!" said Fer, clasping Diver's hands between his own. He stared at Diver; blue eyes met green. Fer flinched a little but was not afraid. "The Maker of Engines did not expect to find the Tomarvan and its pilot at the Bird Clan!" he said. "Do you mean your machine or that One who gives others wings to fly with?" I asked. "Both!" he said smiling. "I would give much to see what makes the Tomarvan fly-" "In time I don't doubt you will see," said Diver, "and frankly, the Dahkan's engine is more new and wonderful to me." "A thing I call a long-spark-maker," said Fer. "I wonder what you would call it?" Diver replied with a few suggestions, totally unpro- nounceable to me at the time but in fact they had to do with "electricity". Fer laughed in delight. ( 123 ) iHl "I have heard all the speech on Torin and words in two ancient tongues, taken from rock writings, but now I find there is something new under the suns." He bade us farewell and walked off the field; Esto hung low in the sky, he walked into sunset colors. A few notes twanged in my memory, but I could not unravel the thread. We walked back ourselves and saw Brin coming proudly to meet us. It was not until we reached the tent that I found the answer to the puzzle; it was such a rich, impossible secret that I hugged it to myself. I murmured that plain name over to myself as I watched an improved Antho wheeled out of its hangar: Fer Utovangan, Second Wing, Second Pilot ... or Former Bird Farmer. The winds had not taken Antho the Bird Farmer very far after all. Now it was the eve of the New Year. Esder was already rising in those sunset clouds, no more than forty pulse beats after Esto sank below the horizon, and Esder would shine on, long after Esto rose again. It is more difficult to fly by Esder light, but some pilots make it their art; the second round went on, by lot, without a break. Flags and mirrors were set up at the Second Mark, inland to the northeast, still on the eastern bank of the Troon, at a place not far from the landing where we had seen Narneen's questioners, the scribe from the Fire-Town and his Witness. We went into this round with good spirits; but Ablo, who knew more than we did about the ways of the Bird Clan, was very nervous. The second round is the most hazardous of all because it is an elimination round. We sat in our tent, ate a good meal of farm fowl with greens and washed it down with honey water. The first decision was when to sleep: wakefulness had been the downfall of many a brave pilot and escort. Ablo sat blinking in the darkness of the tent, picking his teeth and fidgeting with our lot skein, which marked the Tomarvan to fly at the second hour after midnight, paired with Haded, the black glider. "Severk hours!" he exclaimed. "Seven hours, Garl Brinroyan! Sleep ( 124 ) 9 in ho rs, 10, ird ost sat nd as ny s of or wake, it's your decision . . . we have a light escort." "I will sleepand so will the escort. Will you watch for us, good Ablo?" "Yes, Yes . . . but can you sleep, without wine or the preparations the grandees use? I have heard that Blacklock sleeps by the laying on of hands-sleep-stroking-magic." "We can sleep," put in Brin, "have no fear. Wake us in good time." So we slept before his eyes: Diver by the use of a small white piece of medicine from his pocket vest, and Brin and myself from natural weariness, plus a pinch of herbs in our honey water. I slept and dreamed a long ordinary dream that I was on a summer journey, walking, pitching the tent, weaving, with my dear Family all together again. Then I woke up, lonely for a moment and displaced, but filled with the excitement of the Bird Clan, as I saw Diver fastening his buckles. Brin and Ablo parted the tent flap and came in, silvered by the light of Esder. "Six out!" cried Ablo. "Six fallen by the way . . . never seen such an elimination round. The winds are blowing for you, Gar] Brinroyan." "What has gone?" asked Diver. "Utofarl," panted Ablo, "double hope of the Wentroy, indeed, tipped the Second Mark; the yellow Antho did the same-or was it a tree. At any rate, it nearly came down. The copper boiler that came by the river went back into the river again, but the crew were saved, thanks to our Great Mother." I was suddenly afraid. "Jebbal?" I whispered, staring a Brin. "Safe, child." "Continue with the eliminations," said Diver coldly Ablo, saw that his on: enthusiasm must be tempered; he went "The Kite lost wind . . . had it stolen by Tildee, the ( 125 ) steam engine. The winds took that pilot, first casualty this year. The improved Antho with the green tail had a wing and wind battle with Highness Jebbal and lost out. The other elimination was the gray glider that flew its first round with Tildee ... called Margan, the Peacemaker, flown by another unlucky sprig of Dohtroy, and named, doubtless, after her relative on the Council, Dohtroy out of the Fire-Town." We went out into the bright Esder light on the field of the Bird Clan, with the business of the contest still going on, the constant coming and going of the escorts, the cries of the marshals. I felt we had dropped out of the world for several hours simply by going to sleep. And now all that remained in the contest were PEER-LO-VAGOBA pilot Jebbal Faldroyan Luntroy TILDEE pilot Ullo Mattroyan DAH'GAN cbief pilot Murno Peran Pentroy, called Blacklock HADEEL pilot Deel Giroyan, a town grandee of Otolor TOMARVAN pilot Garl Brinroyan, the Luck of Brin's Five Ablo was still very nervous as Diver made his last check of the Tomarvan before we wheeled it to the blocks. I thought this was because he had not slept, but in fact he had another thing on his mind. A member of Blacklock's escort approached to a respectful distance, and Ablo nearly exploded. I knew it! Flaming privilege and grandees' tricks Murno Pentroy is going to issue a challenge!" Diver looked about, and we noticed then that there were a surprising number of vassals and escorts, including some from jebbal, watching our reaction to the message skein that the young Pentroy omor held out to Brin. I have heard of this right to challenge. What can be asked of us?" said Brin, holding the skein. "Blacklock has no partner," hissed Ablo, "and he score~ ( 126 ) e s e e well for that display. He could ask to fly the second round in company with Tomarvan and Hadeel ... but I think he has other devilish plans!" Brin read the skein and smiled. She drew Diver aside and made him hand read as much of it as he could while she explained. "A challenge: Tomarvan and Hadeel to waive the Second Round and fly altogether, with Blacklock and the two other survivors in an immediate deciding race. Its formal name is Great Circle for the Winds' Favor." "I will do it!" murmured Diver. "What say the rest?" Ablo bobbed up at his elbow, still fuming. "Garl Brinroyan ... think what you risk! Against Hadeel you will survive and gain points. You have never flown the Great Circle ... it is thirty weaver's miles over a strange course!" Diver laughed and looked into the sky, a dark translucent blue, where faintly in full Esder light keen eyes might find the stars. I remembered he was another creature, a Man, from the void, who had flown further than anyone under the two suns. It seemed a very little thing to ask him to do ... but I was still afraid. He was our Luck still, our poor sib whom we had nurtured, our bonded kin; and he could be cast down and killed here, flying the Great Circle. "Where are the charts, friend Ablo?" he asked. "You are determined, Garl Brinroyan?" Diver nodded gravely, and Brin's fingers whisked over the skein filling in the answer. "The challenge is accepted!" she announced. The watch- ers stirred and chattered; some gave shouts of encourage- ment. It turned out that we were the last to accept the challenge; the other contestants were ready, even the Tildee had a second head of steam. Two Bird Clan gliders flew off, on the instant, to patrol the circle and land marshals at the towers. There was a sound of music and chanting and a band of Bird Clan vassals, with scarlet tippets over their ( 127 ) blue green, marched around the field in a ceremony for the winds' favor. The pilots and their escorts were bidden to center field for a departing rite and a good talking to from the Launcher: We set out boldly from five corners of the field; Blacklock, conspicuous in his green cloak at the head of an enormous wedge of black and white followers; Jebbal with hardly less, bearing the flax flowers of Luntroy on their white cloaks; Deel Giroyan with twenty, richly dressed, bearing the crest of Otolor; the young Mattroyan, attended by forty omor in striped bag-hose, each one carrying a green tree branch. From our place marched Diver, fine and tall, attended by just three, for Ablo marched with us, grumbling still. We had gone only a few paces into the field when Blacklock halted, maybe from Spinner's prompting or his own goodness of heart, and dismissed all but three of his escort. He walked on attended only by Fer, his copilot, by Spinner, and the young herald who had just visited us. It was a stroke of great courtesy. Jebbal immediately did the same, then the Giroyan and the merchant's child. I guessed at their reluctance, poor things, because town grandees have a deep love of display and feel that it increases their honor. So we marched on and came to center field where Blacklock made the mood easy and laughed as we passed around the cups of honey water. I stared my fill at Blacklock and found that he was covertly sizing up Diver. Presently, after Deel Giroyan had made a greeting round of the circle, Blacklock gestured to his copilot and they strode up to us. We exchanged bows and salutations, but Blacklock was unable to stand on ceremony. "Well met!" he said, "and from what I hear, Garl Brinroyan, you are a strange bird indeed, to fly so far." "Not beyond the sound of your name, Highness!" said Diver. "It has been heard on Hingstull." ( 128 ) This was a smooth answer but it did not please or satisfy Blacklock. His handsome face was alive with curiosity; he nudged Fer Utovangan and burst out: "Speak up, old bird! I've been misled ... here is some courtier! Ask a ques- tion." Fer chuckled and scratched his chin. "You must know Blacklock cannot stand a mystery," he said with a wink, "so I will ask: who are you, Garl Brinroyan?" "He is our Luck!" I said. "He is our bonded Luck," echoed Brin. "Where does this Luck hail from?" asked Blacklock. "It has been suggested that I am an Islander . . ." "Surely a devil flown from the void," put in Fer. "One might say, Highness, that the winds themselves sent Garl Brinroyan to my Five," said Brin. "Well, if we're talking about possibilities," cried Blacklock in exasperation, "one might say he is Eenath the spirit warrior!" "One might say this is another Maker of Engines," said Fer. "One might say," I piped up, "that Fer Utovangan is Antho the Bird Farmer!" Fer and Blacklock stared at me with expressions of comical surprise; Blacklock roared with laughter. "Blazes, old bird, the mountain child has you netted!" "Hush child!" whispered Fer. "Do you not know that the w inds have taken that old-time designer?" 661'm in exalted company," said Diver. "Indeed we are," said Brin, "and I will suggest a bargain. When the Great Circle has been flown and Tomarvan has returned safely to the field, together with Dahkan, whoever leads the other home may question freely and hear the truth. " "Agreed, Brin Brinroyan," said Blacklock. "Agreed again!" said another voice. It was Jebbal making ( 129 ) her rounds, accompanied by the young Mattroyan. "Well Murno ... what there, Friend Brin, young Hazel. I like that Tomarvan, whatever damned fire-metal-magic makes it fly. I never believed in your wind-blades much, Fer Utovangan, until I saw Garl Brinroyan fly in circles. This shy person is Ullo Mattroyan, who heaves Tildee through the air . . ." The merchant's child was shy, without a trace of arro- gance; she was very strong, half omor already from her exertions with the Tildee, but awkward in company. She bowed and jebbal led her on, brisk as ever, smoothing the way with her talk. The Launcher pounced on us suddenly; he stumped into the midst of these pleasantries and began a ferocious harangue. "Safety!" he boomed, "and no wing cutting. We fly for sport and the honor of the Bird Clan. Winds forbid our dear flying machines should be used as weapons! Clean flying, skill and care and no fancywork." He gave more of this pattern, but I heard little of it. I was becoming afraid for Diver, in spite of all this good humor in the center of the field. My legs would scarcely carry me to the new row of launching blocks, where the Tomarvan was already mounted. I stood stiffly erect and smiled at Diver and at Brin, but inside.was a scared, bewildered creature, a mountain child indeed, ready to burrow into the sleeping bag when a wolf howled. The five machines launched at the third hour, each one steady, and flew off due east, to the First Mark, where the first red streaks of Esto burned above Gwervanin. I sat down beside our launching blocks, shuddering, and Brin sat down beside me. Ablo came up with a bag of fresh honey cakes and flung them into my lap with that cross manner that masked his concern. "Eat up, Dorn Brinroyan. Show these vassal youngsters we have stomach for the Great Circle!" I nibbled feebly, then with more interest because the cakes were very good. ( 130 ) d h s ( 131 ) The machines were out of sight. The vassals were clearing the field, even tearing down tents and stalls that stood near the edge. A thick yellow net was being unravelled at the field's lower boundary, beside the river gate and the closed bridge that led to the citadel of Otolor, then leaped in another span to the fairgrounds across the river. "It will be over in less than two hours. Then the gates will be opened and the crowds will come to the nets to cheer the winner," said Ablo. Brin sprang up and helped me to my feet. "Go to the river gate, Dorn, and ask for a message from the Harper," she said. "Will they come to the nets?" I longed to see them again: Mamor, the Harper, Narneen, Old Gwin and Tomar. I pictured them cheering the winner ... our own Luck! "Maybe they'll come," said Brin, "but it is a crush. Better if they waited in their camp on the fairground." I turned to run off but Brin called me back. She held out Diver's viewing tube, his sailor's glass. "Perhaps you can find a vantage point." I took it gratefully and ran to the river gate. Already there was a crowd of spectators packing the gate, waiting for the finish and a good place at the nets. It was strange to be on the inside looking out of the Bird Clan; I fingered the blue silk braid of my emblem and scanned the faces out there, expecting every moment to be hailed by one of the Family. Then I approached the gatekeeper, and he went haughtily to his booth and returned with a message skein. I gave him a silver credit and stood, reading the skein in my fingers, feeling the Harper's words as I turned for one last look at the crowd. I saw a face I knew and my heart thumped, but I gave no sign and ran off again into the field. I stood in the shelter of the tower and raised the glass; the tall, brown figure had edged back ... I saw a narrow face, a flash of blue rags and feathers. Petsalee, Host of Spirits, and dressed as a twirler! Could he harm -us here, in the Bird Clan itself? I folded the glass and carried the Harper's skein to Brin; she read off the location of the camp, on a good site by the cloth market, and the Harper's good wishes. I said nothing about what I had seen and sent my wishes and prayers after Diver in the Tomarvan, rounding the First Mark. I strolled off again and when I was out of sight of Brin and Ablo, I put Diver's glass in the pouch pocket of my tunic and climbed to the top of the great launching tower. About twenty vassals and escorts had had the same idea, the nimbler ones, children like myself. We clung to the supports and felt the winds tug at the tower. I hunched down, straddling a sturdy crosspiece, and found the tower no more frightening than a tall tree on Hingstull. I extended the magic glass and searched for a long time until I found them: five dots, no bigger than birds, flying bunched together halfway to the Second Mark. The rays of Esto, rising for the New Year, flashed silver or blue or green off one flying machine then another as they dipped and soared. I adjusted the glass and began to distinguish the challengers. Hadeel overhead, then Tildee thrusting towards the Second Mark, and surely that was Dahkan, Blacklock's big machine, close behind. Tomarvan flew beyond the Dahkan and trailing a,little, high in a spiral behind the field, Peer-lo-vagoba soared in the blue. The sunlight caught the mirrors at the Second Mark, which was another wooden tower, tall as the one I was perched on. I moved the glass on to survey the Great Circle: there were four marker balloons, one drooping from a leak, then far off by the fixed houses of Otolor, the Third Mark. There was one of the Bird Clan gliders flying in uneasy ovals on the farthest edge of the fairground, and there were the streamers drifting out from the Fourth Mark. I flicked on quickly over the markets and stalls and dancing platforms to the gaudy Fifth Mark, still on the far bank of the Troon, a good distance downstream from & ( 132 ) river gate. When I looked back, the five machines had crossed the river and were flying low over the fixed houses, low enough to wake sleepers, if any slept in Otolor at the New Year. Suddenly one caught a wild current-was it Haded, still holding a narrow lead?-and the group spread outward and upward like birds alarmed by a fowler's slingshot. Tomar- van! I saw Diver catch the current and improve his place, but below came Tildee, heavy and dark, chugging even further ahead. Then I could see no more; the angle of the light made me weep and blink and lower the glass. I wiped my eyes and kept taking a look, but the machines were too far away, slow-moving dots, crawling through the sky to the Third Mark. So I sat on the tower for a long time, watching those five dots, hardly able to think of them as flying machines, the objects of so much hope, thrust through the air by living persons. Every so often I would identify one or other of the contestants: Jebbal wheeling to take the lead, Dahkan hovering in close with Tomarvan; but then the pattern would change. All the machines became silvery drops or wisps of cloud, or I would find I had tracked a passing bird by mistake. I sat rocking and blinking on the tower, below the other chattering youngsters who pointed and whooped and thought they saw this leader and that. Sometimes I rested my eyes and almost slept, then woke in panic and found the machines no nearer ... but was that Dahkan following the Tomarvan? And suddenly I was wide awake, frantically adjusting the glass, for they were rounding the Fourth Mark and the view was clear. Dahkan! Dahkan well ahead, and Tomarvan above, then Tildee closing to the right; far above, the two gliders, Hadeel and Peer-lo-vagoba, battled for each other's wind. I could see the other Bird Clan glider and the marshals in it. The three leading machines contin- ued their desperate fight: Tildee challenged and Dahkan banked and Tomarvan tried to cut between but failed, ran ( 133 ) out of sky, and had to fly wide and low, back into third place. Tildee sliced in to take the lead, and I could feel the breath of the wind-blade as Blacklock brought the Dahkan close enough to slice a wing. Now Diver . . . take the lead now! And the Tomarvan did take the lead, but Tildee, the stinking Tildee, undercut, hacking at Diver's wing-where were the flaming marshals?-and Dahkan flew round- about, doggedly, and came up ahead of the two others. Then Peer-lo-vagoba lit down from high above, catching the wind perfectly, to take the lead, and there was Hadeel following. "Come down!" The tower was rocking crazily, and the Launcher stood at its base calling in his thunder voice, "Down you wretched fledglings! Down, before we disman- tle the tower with you clinging to its branches!" Two clan vassals and a marshal were already on the platform shoving the youngsters to the ladders and at- taching ropes to the tower. I scrambled for my life, with the rest, and we had scarcely hit the ground when the tower was skilfully twitched in half by the ropes. In a moment our perch was nothing but a heap of sticks and binding, dragged off the field in a transport net. I saw that the gates had been opened and a jostling crowd were pressed against the yellow ropes of the barrier. I ran back to the blocks, or the place where they had been, and found Brin and Ablo waiting among the silent, ranked escorts of all the challeng- ers. I could hardly believe that they had seen nothing. "Soon . . ." I panted, "approaching the Fifth Mark!" "None down?" panted Ablo, "good, good, winds' favor indeed! Where is the Tomarvan?" , "Battling with Dahkan and Tildee, last I saw." The voice of a marshal, with a speaking gourd, reported calmly from the pavilion. "Now at the Fifth Mark. All challengers approaching . . ." There was a buzz of relief from the escorts. "Dahkan, Tildee, Tomarvan ... followed high by ( 134 ) e ,er ur vor by Peer-lo-vagoba and Hadeel. " "But how can they tell? How can they see so far? They must have a seeing glass!" "They have something better, child, and could have told us the entire contest if they dared. There is a voice-wire stretched round the whole of the Great Circle, with answering places at every mark," whispered Ablo. "Fire-metal-magic," said Brin. "And how do you know so much, Dorn Brinroyan?" I looked at the brown turf. I was on the tower with Diver's glass." Ablo grumbled at that, about mischief and taking risks, so I handed him the seeing glass. He puzzled over it a little, and I helped him. Then, as he exclaimed in wonder at the powers of the glass, the cry went up. They flew in at some height on the long southern curve of the field, Dahkan, Tomarvan, Tildee, in line, then with Tomarvan shifting up and back a little. The gliders were nowhere to be seen. Blacklock's escort raised a clamor, and the Mattroyan omor began to chant, waving their green branches. I shouted, but then fell silent, like the anxious escorts of Hadeel and Peer-lo-vagoba, but for a different reason. I knew what would happen. There was a landing target set down, a circular mat of white woven straw in the center of the field; the trick was to turn and land, facing the river. I knew, I knew that Blacklock must peel off his heavy machine to the east leaving a strip of sky; and surely, as we watched, the Tomarvan turned half upside down, stood on its wingtip in midair. I saw Brin raise both hands and shout, summoning the winds, as Diver came through. The Tomarvan slotted between Dahkan and Tildee, like the shuttle on a loom, then turned as the crowd began to roar, cut under Dahkan's runners with a hand's breadth to spare, turned again, and came down gently as a leaf, on the white mat in center field. Ablo seized my hand-he was weeping-and we ran, with Brin, to hold the wings. And ( 135 ) that was how the Bird Clan was won. I have thought of this moment and dreamed of it all my life since that time. I remember how the Dahkan lit down beside us, how Blacklock ran to embrace Diver and call him friend and sibling. How the Tildee came in, red-hot in patches, and the pale young Mattroyan was lifted out by Diver and Blacklock to share the moment. Then the platform was wheeled up, the same one that had brought Tomarvan into the enclosure, but decorated this time with flowers of spring and blue green banners and tall silk lilies, the sign of victory. The Tomarvan was lifted aboard, and Diver, our Luck, unable to keep the smile off his face, stood beside his machine while silkbeam copies were made by the marshals. Then we climbed up beside him to share his triumph ride, and Blacklock himself stood to the flower- twined ropes with the cheering, laughing band of marshals and vassals. We were drawn towards the barrier and the cry went up, again and again, "Garl Brinroyan", "Tomarvan", "Brin's Five and Cullin". Here my dream should end; here I should remember no further. I have awakened in the darkness or in Esder light, on land and on the ocean sea, crying out for the dream to stop, stop and show me no more. We had reached the barrier when the cheering began to fade; I saw Blacklock check and look at the sky. The cheering dried up, ebbed away completely. Diver made an exclamation in his own tongue. Hadeel and Peer-lo-vagoba had appeared together high above the field, moving, both of them, with a strange shuddering motion. Then I saw that they were locked together. The slender wingtip of jebbal had pierced the black glider behind the pilot's chair and would not come free. They swung down together caught in one current that lived over the field, then were carried up in another; at the greatest height Hadeel wrenched free and came soaring down safely, far to the east, almost on th ' e First Mark. Peer-lo-vagoba looped over, still graceful, and ( 136 ) began to turn, to turn faster, to spin like an autumn leaf, spinning down, down, faster and faster towards the hard ground. I screamed but no sound came; there was a heavy silence over the whole of the field. The glider was a spinning blur of blue, a twirler; I could not take my eyes from it, but at the last Brin turned my head away and buried my face in her cloak. All I felt was a jarring thump, no more than the closing of a wooden door in a fixed house. The silence was shattered after a few pulse beats; it was a scene of dreadful confusion. I saw Diver leap down and run, followed by Blacklock; the Launcher was roaring somewhere; the crowd broke the barrier and swarmed onto the field. Brin and Ablo had to stand to the Tomarvan on its triumphal platform to protect it. I saw a tall ancient rush past, tearing the clothes from his back and scratching his face in token of mourning: it was Jebbal's chief officer. I had only one thought. I leaped from the platform and ran and fought and burrowed through the weeping, jostling crowd u'I I came to Jebbal's fine silken tent, where the children nti were waiting. There was a clear space all around it; the escort were not there, except for two body servants, one an ancient sitting on the ground, tearing the flax flowers of Luntroy from its cloak, the other a young officer rifling through a kitbag. The ancient shrieked at me as I went to the tent flap that the place was accursed. Would I draw down the winds' bane? I carry the winds' favor!" I shouted. I stepped into the darkness of the tent and waited, searching the darkness until my eyes became accustomed to it. They sat there on the cushions, pale as ever: Valdin and Thanar. They were richly dressed in honor of the day; the bead game lay between them. I saw myself in their silvered mirror, wild-eyed, dirty, full of the fear and excitement that made up the Bird Clan. I felt sure they had not watched the race, that no one had told them how it ended, and at the same time I was sure they understood what had ( 137 ) happened. For four years, until this time, they had waited in the dark tent; and they knew the worst, although no one had brought them word. I stumbled forward and sat by them; Valdin moved a bead on the board, and Thanar clapped her hands silently and took four of his beads. Valdin sighed and handed me a beaker of honey water. "She is a baby," he said, "she likes to win." I sipped and choked. "Has anyone ... ?" I gasped. "Not yet," whispered Thanar, "you are the first, Dorn. You are our officer." She replaced the beads carefully, every one in its correct socket, then began to move about the tent, collecting their belongings. "You must make a report," said Valdin. I stared at him, dry-mouthed. "Is the Bird Clan won?" he prompted. "Yes, by Garl Brinroyan." "And Jebbal? ' ' * 97 "The winds have taken her." I hated this empty formula but I was glad of it; I could not tell them any more. Thanar brought Valdin his cloak and he put it on, as she had done with her own; scarlet lining turned out, in token of mourning. I talked with them about sailing. We sat there for what seemed a long time, and the eddies of sound from the field became fainter, as order was restored. "What will you do?" I asked. "Go to Salthaven," said Thanar. "Some clan folk will see to it." There was a faint hail from outside the tent, and I went to the doorway. I saw that the escort had all returned, shame-faced and weeping; they sat in a circle, giving the tent a wide berth. In the midst of them stood the hawk- faced old scribe with the Wentroy pectoral, first officer for the pilot of Utofarl. "Who is that? Who has braved the winds' bane in that tent?" he demanded. "Dorn Brinroyan!" ( 138 ) vaited io one ;at by ,hanar )eads. , "She oked. ~orn. fully, about , him, Imula is she token there f rom see He took a few steps towards the tent and said "Aren't you afraid, child?" "No, I am not," I said truthfully, "for I carry the winds' favor. We have a great Luck, victor of this Bird Clan, and besides, I have a special duty to their Highnesses Valdin and Thanar.' "Well, you have taken the edge off this accursed place." He stepped into the tent and bowed sorrowfully to the children, who stood together, holding their velvet satchels. "Highnesses, my liege of Wentroy has your barge ready." I cannot remember what we said in farewell, but the ancient took them away, quickly, by the back flap of the tent and bade me stay longer. I looked out and saw the two scarlet cloaks heading a slow and melancholy procession towards the river. jebbal's escort trooped silently among the tents and stalls to the Bird Clan stockade and crept out through a broken place onto the bank of the Troon, where the barge was waiting. I drew back into the empty tent and sat on the ground. was alone and in an accursed place, but I did not want to be with anyone at that moment. Even the winds' favor weighed heavily upon me; I could not think of our good fortune. I could not wish myself back on Hingstull; for the Dorn who had run about on the mountain was gone forever. I would meet that child, become that child again, only in dreams. I went 'ned, ~ the awk- the ground." r for "So you have seen the Bird Clan," said a dry whisper inside my head. I have seen it." "Then you know that the winds can dash every hope to that A beam of sunlight, the rich light of the two suns, blazing outside for the New Year, struck the silver mirror left on the tent wall. My eyes were dazzled; a figure dark and bright grew in shadow at my side. I caught a movement of the green-hemmed robe "Do you hate the Bird Clan then?" I asked aloud. "It is a testing ground, no more," said the Engines. "Our Luck flew well . I said defensively. "Too well!" the voice was harsh. "Now he is known, marked down for the strange creature that he is. He must come to me at once or my protection will have no power." "Someone is coming!" I said. "Those I have summoned." There was a muffled shout of "Winds' favor!" outside the tent, and Blacklock strode in followed by Diver. Blacklock checked in his stride at once for he saw who was there, a familiar presence to him. His handsome face wore a rueful expression. "At your call," he said. "Another victory for the Bird Clan!" said the Maker of Engines sadly. Diver came on into the tent completely unaware of any other presence. "Are the children taken care of?" he asked. "Yes," I said, "but Diver . . . hear me . . ." "Dorn, poor fellow . . . my dear sib . . . come up off the ground!" "Diver . . . someone else is here," I said. "What?" "Garl Brinroyan,?' said Blacklock. "Meet this other whom I call 'teacher', 'guide',.even 'my liege'." Diver looked carefully round the tent and said in wonder "Some other person ... here in this tent?" Blacklock waved his hands in exasperation. "There! I' never seen a better demonstration of thought-blindness! By the fire, I believe what Antho, our wise old bird, says o you, Garl Brinroyan. You are not of this world!" The Maker of Engines said in that dry inward voice "Thought-blind indeed! Yet, I wonder. Dorn, ask you Luck to stand still and take off those flying goggles." I was about to pass on this message when to my surpris Diver did as he had been asked. ( 140 ) of t de ho ace of ny d. the er, er; did you do that?" asked Blacklock slyly. "No reason," said Diver, "or perhaps . . . I felt . The Maker of Engines uttered a sighing laugh; that radiance I had felt on the rock grew very strong. I saw the Great Diviner in and out of my head, everywhere around me, as if reflected in a hundred mirrors, so clearly that my head ached. Tall, narrow-faced, with a great fall of dark brown hair held across the high brow by a band of green brilliants. The eyes were black and piercing; I shut my own eyes and seemed to fall into a deep pool of black light where there was only this dazzling figure. "Enough, Nantgeeb! You will have us entranced!" cried Blacklock. I dragged my eyelids open and saw Blacklock reeling back, an arm before his face. Diver suddenly cried out in his own language. He took a step forward, his face very pale, his blue eyes staring, for he was very much afraid. "There is something . . ." he whispered. He mastered his fear and stepped forward again into that light, which we could scarcely bear, peering warily like a hunter entering a cave. "Commend me to the Maker of Engines, Dorn," he said. "Commend me to your Luck, Dorn Brinroyan," said Nantgeeb. The light had already faded, and the Maker of Engines was a more comfortable presence. "This Luck-what is his true name?-is certainly very brave. The report I have from the Ulgan of Cullin does justice to him." "He flies as well . . . as well as I do," murmured Black- lock. "And I smell more fire-metal-magic about the Tomar- van than any other machine in the Bird Clan." "Murno, my firebrand," said Nantgeeb bitterly, "I have given my time, my riches, even those I might call my kin to this Bird Clan, and I grow weary of its wretched excesses. Remember where you stand . . . if this place is accursed it is because I curse it. Once, long ago, I was an officer in the escort of Jebbal Faldroyan Luntroy." ( 141 )