how quickly they looked
away, walked away, grouped together, speaking in hushed voices.
Admit it, Tieran thought, no matter how great a surgeon you become, no
matter what you do, even if Wind Blossom can perform a miracle, no girl is
going to look at you.
Except maybe to laugh.
And now his last hiding place was too small. Tieran stifled a curse—not
because he was afraid of swearing, but because he was afraid the curse
might come out as a sob.
Voices approached in the dark. Tieran pulled himself into a shadowy nook.
“How did the boy take it, then?” Tieran recognized the rich tenor voice as
that of Sandell, a student musician. Some Turns back they had played
together—hide-and-seek.
“It was hard on him,” Emorra answered. “It must be hard to lose a father.”
“Don’t you remember yours?” Sandell asked.
“No.” Emorra paused. “In fact, it’s been Turns since I last asked mother
about him. She never told me anything.”
Sandell laughed. “I’ll bet he was a musician, and that’s why she hates us.”
Emorra snorted. “That would explain where I got my talent.”
“And your looks,” Sandell added softly. From the sound of clothing and the
soft noises, Tieran guessed that Sandell had taken Emorra in his arms. He
peered around the corner. They were kissing!
Tieran ducked back again as Emorra pushed away from the journeyman.
“Not here,” Emorra said. “Someone might see us.”
Sandell laughed. “So let them!”
“No,” Emorra said firmly.
“Very well, Dean Emorra,” Sandell replied indulgently. “Your quarters or
mine?”
Tieran relaxed as he heard them depart.
The loud sound of drums—he guessed it was Jendel up on the big
drum—rattled out an attention signal. Tieran heard the response from the
four outlying stations and, almost on top of their response, the College
drums sounded out their message in deep commanding booms. It was the
sign off for the evening; no other message would go out until morning,
except in an emergency.
Tieran listened to the details, his throat clenched as he heard the report of
his father’s death being passed on down to all the minor holds along the
way equipped with either a drummer or a repeater station. The drums fell
silent, were echoed by the repeater stations further on and, very faintly, by
the stations beyond those, and then the sounds of evening took over the
night air.
With a quick breath and a determined spring in his step, Tieran turned to
the Drum Tower—his new hiding place.
FIVE
Fierce winds blow.
Seas roil.
Calm, wind. Settle, sea.
Let my loved return to me.
On the WIND RIDER at sea, Second Interval, AL 507
The wind was gusting as they weighed anchor. When they cleared the
harbor, Wind Rider heeled so much that Baror called for them to reduce
sail.
With the sail reset, Wind Rider still heeled over at a fierce angle, her bow
breaking through the waves as she sped into the moonlit night.
Within an hour the offshore breeze had been supplanted by gusting winds,
and the moons were lost in a haze of clouds. Five minutes after that the first
of the rain fell upon them.
An hour later the ship was in a full gale, heeling hard over with two men
fighting the helm and four men struggling to furl sail.
Colfet found Baror at the wheel with another man he’d never seen before.
He shouted over the roar of the wind, “Where’s the captain? This sail’s all
wrong for this weather, we’re heeling too hard. We need to alter course,
too—see how she’s digging into the waves? We’ll broach to if we don’t.”
“The captain’s not here,” Baror replied, teeth wide in a grin.
“I can see that,” Colfet responded irritably. “Where is he?” He looked
forward. “Is he forward with the sails?”
“No, you git, he’s not here,” Baror responded, his grin disappearing in a
frown. “Left me in charge, seeing as you’ve got that bum wing.”
Another gust spun the ship and Baror gripped the
away, walked away, grouped together, speaking in hushed voices.
Admit it, Tieran thought, no matter how great a surgeon you become, no
matter what you do, even if Wind Blossom can perform a miracle, no girl is
going to look at you.
Except maybe to laugh.
And now his last hiding place was too small. Tieran stifled a curse—not
because he was afraid of swearing, but because he was afraid the curse
might come out as a sob.
Voices approached in the dark. Tieran pulled himself into a shadowy nook.
“How did the boy take it, then?” Tieran recognized the rich tenor voice as
that of Sandell, a student musician. Some Turns back they had played
together—hide-and-seek.
“It was hard on him,” Emorra answered. “It must be hard to lose a father.”
“Don’t you remember yours?” Sandell asked.
“No.” Emorra paused. “In fact, it’s been Turns since I last asked mother
about him. She never told me anything.”
Sandell laughed. “I’ll bet he was a musician, and that’s why she hates us.”
Emorra snorted. “That would explain where I got my talent.”
“And your looks,” Sandell added softly. From the sound of clothing and the
soft noises, Tieran guessed that Sandell had taken Emorra in his arms. He
peered around the corner. They were kissing!
Tieran ducked back again as Emorra pushed away from the journeyman.
“Not here,” Emorra said. “Someone might see us.”
Sandell laughed. “So let them!”
“No,” Emorra said firmly.
“Very well, Dean Emorra,” Sandell replied indulgently. “Your quarters or
mine?”
Tieran relaxed as he heard them depart.
The loud sound of drums—he guessed it was Jendel up on the big
drum—rattled out an attention signal. Tieran heard the response from the
four outlying stations and, almost on top of their response, the College
drums sounded out their message in deep commanding booms. It was the
sign off for the evening; no other message would go out until morning,
except in an emergency.
Tieran listened to the details, his throat clenched as he heard the report of
his father’s death being passed on down to all the minor holds along the
way equipped with either a drummer or a repeater station. The drums fell
silent, were echoed by the repeater stations further on and, very faintly, by
the stations beyond those, and then the sounds of evening took over the
night air.
With a quick breath and a determined spring in his step, Tieran turned to
the Drum Tower—his new hiding place.
FIVE
Fierce winds blow.
Seas roil.
Calm, wind. Settle, sea.
Let my loved return to me.
On the WIND RIDER at sea, Second Interval, AL 507
The wind was gusting as they weighed anchor. When they cleared the
harbor, Wind Rider heeled so much that Baror called for them to reduce
sail.
With the sail reset, Wind Rider still heeled over at a fierce angle, her bow
breaking through the waves as she sped into the moonlit night.
Within an hour the offshore breeze had been supplanted by gusting winds,
and the moons were lost in a haze of clouds. Five minutes after that the first
of the rain fell upon them.
An hour later the ship was in a full gale, heeling hard over with two men
fighting the helm and four men struggling to furl sail.
Colfet found Baror at the wheel with another man he’d never seen before.
He shouted over the roar of the wind, “Where’s the captain? This sail’s all
wrong for this weather, we’re heeling too hard. We need to alter course,
too—see how she’s digging into the waves? We’ll broach to if we don’t.”
“The captain’s not here,” Baror replied, teeth wide in a grin.
“I can see that,” Colfet responded irritably. “Where is he?” He looked
forward. “Is he forward with the sails?”
“No, you git, he’s not here,” Baror responded, his grin disappearing in a
frown. “Left me in charge, seeing as you’ve got that bum wing.”
Another gust spun the ship and Baror gripped the
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