The Rival by Kristine Kathryn Rusch Page A

it.
    Rugad would help the Fey not only win, but thrive.
    The wind dropped for a moment, putting a strain on his tiny wings.  He flew low over one of the farms, seeing the large stone house, and the large grain storage buildings beyond.  Animals grazed on a small patch of ground behind the storage buildings.  Wealth.
    His wings ached.  Without the wind, he couldn't maintain this pace.  He would burn himself up. 
    He toyed with the idea of stopping, of resting, and he would have to soon if the wind didn't pick up.  This was why winged Fey couldn't fly across oceans and other great distances. They tired.  Their endurance lasted only so long.  Rugad was asking Flurry to fly to the edge of his endurance and beyond.
    Flurry would try.
    But he might have to stop. 
    As he lowered himself toward the grain silos, the wind picked up again, and carried him forward.  The great effort he had performed a few moments ago seemed less now.  He wasn't as tired.  And, by his calculations (and if the tortured Islanders were right) he was probably halfway.  He just might make the capitol city by nightfall.
    Then his problems increased.  He had to find the palace based on someone else's description, and he had to find the King.  Somehow, a blue-eyed, round-faced, middle-aged yellow haired man, unusual by Fey standards, didn't seem so unusual here.  He only hoped the Islanders acted differently toward their king, treated him as if he were a Shaman or something.  He was related to their great religious leader.  That might count for these people.
    Even though Flurry had been forced to study the Islanders for the year before this journey, he still felt as if he didn't know enough.  He was proficient in their language, he had been taught their odd religion, and he knew details about their culture.
    Still things surprised him.  Like Rugad, he hadn't expected poverty.  And unlike Rugad, he hadn't expected this great wealth.
    The farmlands seemed to extend forever.  He would know he was getting closer to the city of Jahn when he came to a series of bridges.  Then, the Islanders told him, he would be able to see the city in the distance.  The Tabernacle was on this side of the Great Cardidas River.  He was to avoid that place, even though it looked like a palace.  The palace was the other big building, on the far side of the river.
    If his luck ran true, the day's heat would continue into the night.  Then he would be able to fly through an open window, and search the palace.
    He would deliver his message and leave.
    Rugad would take care of the rest.
     

 
     
     
    THIRTEEN
     
    Gift stopped at the edge of the river, under the great bridge.  He was panting hard.  He doubled over, grabbed the back of his legs, and stretched, feeling the blood rush to his face. 
    She had nearly pecked out his eyes.  If Solanda hadn't stopped her, his own sister would have blinded him.
    Such ferocity.  Arianna loved Sebastian too.  Maybe he could use that.  Maybe he could tell Solanda what was happening and she would get Arianna to protect Sebastian.
    Or maybe she wouldn't.  Solanda considered him unnatural, and not real.  She seemed to have a pure hatred for him, based on what he had been, not on who he was.
    Gift leaned against the stone of the bridge.  His heart was pounding hard.  The river had a marshy stink here, clustered under the stone itself.  There was a smell of decay, of urine, of old forgotten places.  He had hidden here before, on his few trips to the city, because Islanders rarely came here, and those who did were the unfortunate, the unloved, and the homeless.
    He failed.  He hadn't expected to.  He had thought he might have difficulty convincing Sebastian, but he had thought they would get away. 
    Now he didn't know what to do.  It felt as if every moment he waited doomed Sebastian.
    Or himself.
    If only he had found the room from his Vision.  If only he could tell exactly when the Vision occurred.  If only