The Luck of Brin's Five by Cherry; Wilder

cargo. There was no shortage of gossip up and down the river. The shepherd even volunteered 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 first balloon of springtime went past overhead, and not far behind it was a glider.
    It was a fine sight: Narneen and I loved flying machines and looked for these flitterlings or spring visitors every year.
    â€œGrandees?” asked Diver. He had moved into the shadow of a boulder and drawn out his spyglass.
    â€œThat’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 we got too many 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 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 spyglass. Diver looked again, and Narneen took a peep. 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.
    â€œWe told you,” said Brin, after supper. “Did you think those were hill yarns?”
    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.
    â€œThere 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.”
    â€œAh . . .” said Harper Roy, who was quiet and thoughtful this night. “Many others would fly if they could. Remember Antho the Bird Farmer.”
    â€œRemind 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 “mantothan.” I cannot