The Luck of Brin's Five by Wilder Cherry;

Author:Wilder, Cherry;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Distribution
Published: 2016-06-30T04:00:00+00:00

VII

The closing ceremonies of the Bird Clan were shortened because of Jebbal’s death on the field. Even so they took several hours, part of them spent in sorting and counting our winnings. These were lodged in five wheeled wicker caskets, each one big enough to contain two or three Moruians, inside the Launcher’s pavilion. Ablo was given a generous share and left to head a guard chosen from Blacklock’s escort; this pleased him almost as much as the cloth and credits he had won.

The gates had already been opened, and the members of the Bird Clan were streaming across to the fairgrounds to celebrate the New Year. A bridge of decorated barges stood at the river gate; the double bridge past the citadel was twined with flowers. Flying machines still passed overhead, taking their leave. Diver instructed Fer Utovangan in the control of the Tomarvan, and he flew a brief practice flight. It was arranged that Fer and Blacklock should fly out the next day or the day after that.

“I will care for this bird of yours,” said Fer. “No harm will come to the Tomarvan, and I hope you will fly in it again.” For he could see that Diver loved the flying machine and did not really wish to part with it.

At last we were ready to leave and find our family at that good pitch the Harper had told of in his skein, by the cloth market. It was customary for the winner to leave in triumph, with Bird Clan vassals playing music all the way to the Sun Carpet, the famous dancing place in the center of the fairgrounds. We did not use this escort, and it was understood that this was out of respect for Jebbal, but we had other reasons as well.

We set out at the third hour after midday, three nondescript Moruians, two adults and a child, muffled in plain gray silken cloaks. We joined the crowds thronging the double bridge, and I felt at last a lifting of my spirits. Home again. Home to the tent after so long, with Mamor, the Harper, Old Gwin, Narneen, and Tomar waiting for us. It was a day when nothing but friendship should prevail. The faces I saw everywhere were smiling; there was no ill-will, no ill-natured jostling. Children ran about among the crowd waving fair favors of colored wool that twirled on a stick. As we passed the citadel, Brin checked suddenly, then we walked across the second arch into Otolor.

“Something wrong?” asked Diver.

“I thought we had a follower . . . in twirler’s dress.”

“Petsalee!” I squeaked. “I saw him, I saw him . . .” It seemed ages ago, before the race was won, before Jebbal died.

We stood in the shadow of a cook-stall awning and looked back for a long time but saw nothing suspicious. Then we threaded our way down a long alley full of cook-stalls, and the scent was so delicious that Diver and Brin took pity on me and we stopped to buy roast wild fowl stuffed with berries.

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