One-Wing by George R. R. Martin & Lisa Tuttle

Author:George R. R. Martin & Lisa Tuttle [Martin, George R. R. & Tuttle, Lisa]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Sci Fi & Fantasy
Publisher: Analog Science Fiction/ Science Fact
Published: 1980-01-08T00:00:00+00:00

Maris and S’Rella spent the night together in a roughly finished cabin for two not far from the shore, one of fifty such structures that the Landsman of Skulny had caused to be erected to house the visiting flyers. The little village was only half full as yet, but Maris knew that the earliest arrivals had already appropriated the more comfortable accommodations in the lodge house and the guest wing of the Landsman’s own High Hall.

S’Rella didn’t mind the austerity of their lodgings. She was in high spirits when Maris retrieved her at last from the dying party. Garth had stayed close to her throughout the evening, introducing her to most everybody, forcing her to eat three portions of his stew after she had praised it incautiously, and regaling her with embarrassing anecdotes about half of the flyers present. “He’s nice,” S’Rella said, “but he drinks too much.” fylaris could only agree with that, though it had not always been so; when she’d come to find S’Rella, Garth had been red-eyed and close to staggering. Maris helped him to the back room and put him to bed while he carried on a slurred, unintelligible conversation.

The next day dawned grey and windy. They woke to the cries of a food vendor, and Maris slipped outside and bought two steaming hot sausages from his cart. After breakfast, they donned their wings and flew. Not many of the flyers were in the air; the holiday atmosphere was a contagion, and most were drinking and talking in the lodge, or paying their respects to the Landsman, or wandering about Skulny to see what there was to see. But Maris insisted that S’Rella practice, and they stayed aloft for close to five hours on steadily rising winds.

Below them, the beach was again choked with children eager to assist incoming flyers. Despite their numbers, they were kept busy. Arrivals were constant throughout the day. The most spectacular moment—S’Rella looked on with wondering, awestruck eyes—was when the flyers of Big Shotan approached en masse, nearly forty strong, flying in a tight formation, gorgeous against the sun in their dark red uniforms and shimmering silver wings.

By the time the competition began, Maris knew, virtually all the flyers from the scattered reaches of Western would be here, since the games were close at hand this year. Eastern would be heavily represented too, although not quite with the unanimity of Western. Southern, smaller and further, would have fewer still, and there would be only a handful of competitors from the Outer Islands, desolate Artellia, the volcanic Embers, and the other far-off places.

It was afternoon, and Maris and S’Rella were sitting outside the lodge with glasses of hot spiced milk in their hands, when Val made his appearance.

He gave Maris his mocking halfsmile and sat down next to S’Rella. “I trust you enjoyed flyer hospitality,” he said flatly.

“They were nice,” S’Rella said, blushing. “Won’t you come tonight? There’s to be another party. Garth is going to roast a whole seacat, and his sister is providing ale.

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