Wingborn (40 page)

Thank you for word of Kilai – a
more hopeless correspondent I’ve yet to meet. I’m delighted he’s
happy in his Rider life, but I’m more pleased that you are. You and
Cumulo deserve your happiness.

Speaking of which, I’ve refused
three more suitors. Father grows impatient, but two were older than
him and the other younger than Kilai! Mother says I have gained a
reputation for being Unattainable, so all the young cubs are
forming ridiculous passions for me, certain to be the one who tames
me. It is so stupid. One of these days I shall say yes, and won’t
the fool in question be surprised.

It’s not that I enjoy turning
them down – you know how much I hate it – but I’ve yet to be asked
by a man who wants me for myself. The Kilpapan name and fortune are
so attractive, but we have no need of advantageous alliances.
Despite father’s blustering, your decision to enter the Riders has
been met with nothing but praise. Everyone thinks you are terribly
brave. You have quite raised our status. The Kilpapans are not just
rich but courageous too, not to mention favourites of the
Stratys.

Show me the man who has no care
for these things, who sees me as more than an empty-headed doll,
and I will happily marry him.

Alas, I do not think he will
ask. Nor would father agree to such a match.

Did I mention how much I miss
you, dearest? And your friends. They were so lively. I hope they’re
all doing well. And your lieutenants too. How is Lieutenant Lyrai?
And Lieutenant Stirla?

I wish I could visit, since you
cannot come to me. A break from town would be most welcome. Guests
from across the Overworld have descended for the negotiations over
Prince Henryn’s marriage and Nimbys begins to feel quite small.
Crowds gather wherever the foreign dignitaries are staying and
trail their every move. You’d hate it.

March Serfyn, from the King’s
Council of North Point, is staying with the Fenhays three houses
along. Father deems it unacceptable, though mother often goes out
to catch the attention of the press and promote the business. She
is quite shameless, but you already knew that.

The negotiations might continue
for another month! I shall go mad. Write back soon, dearest, and
take my mind away from such things. In the meantime, please take
care, and send my regards to everyone.

Love to you, Cumulo and
Kilai.

Your lonely, spinsterish
sister,

Milluqua x

Mhysra folded
her letter and grinned. She didn’t envy her sister in the
slightest; seven months in Nimbys had been more than enough.

“Everything
all right?” Corin whispered, filching Mhysra’s history notes. “Is
your sister getting married yet?”

“No.” Mhysra
tucked the letter under her geography essay and looked busy as
Lieutenant Willym walked past. Study sessions were never fun when
he was around since he banned talking, smiling or enjoyment in any
form. Whispers rustled in his wake, but stopped the moment he
turned as the students had become adept at avoiding his notice.

Scribbling
about the gently sloping mountains and agricultural yield of the
Lowlands, Mhysra kept an eye on the lieutenant. “She’s turned down
another three.”

Corin
chuckled, squinting at Mhysra’s notes on the reign of King Meryk VI
of Scudia and the Jarl uprising of 548 CE. “I’m beginning to think
your sister doesn’t want to get married.”

“She does,”
Mhysra murmured. “She has someone in mind, but father would never
agree.”

“Who?” Corin
demanded, nosy as ever. Unfortunately, she was noisy too.

Willym
pounced. “All done, Student Corin? And you, Student Mhysra?”

Since their
tutors delighted in giving them more work than anyone could
possibly manage, it was obvious that they weren’t. Excuses were
pointless, though. They shook their heads.

“No?” Willym
drawled. “Then what is so important that you need to shriek about
it to the entire hall?” Looming over them, he poked at their papers
with his flying crop.

Mhysra bit her
lip, worried he would uncover her sister’s letter – Willym read
private correspondence aloud whenever he found it. Not that there
was anything to embarrass Mhysra in the letter, but she hated the
thought of others making fun of her sister. Thankfully she had
hidden it well, and when Willym’s insolent prodding knocked a heap
of papers off the table, she slipped it into her pocket.

After he’d
disrupted all their things and found nothing except lesson notes,
the lieutenant sniffed. “Report to the tanners on Starday. Two
bells each. Don’t let me hear another squeak from you.” Slapping
his crop against his palm, he stalked off.

Corin
grimaced apologetically at Mhysra and they settled back to work in
silence. That didn’t mean their conversation was finished. The
moment Willym was across the room, Corin nudged a note towards
Mhysra.
Who?

Biting
her lip to restrain a smile, Mhysra scribbled,
Lt.
Stirla.

Corin
masked her gasp under a convincing sneeze.
Poor Milli!

I know.
Mhysra
sighed, putting her geography essay aside and fishing her
arithmetic notes out of the mess Willym had made. The sums looked
no more appealing now than they had the day before, or at any point
during the last quarter-moon, but they were due the next
morning.

Lieutenant
Hlen was no trouble, though. As long as the students made an
effort, he treated them fairly. If they didn’t he only looked sad,
which was far worse than any humiliation Willym meted out. Dhori
shoved a sheet of hints across the table to help her. Grinning, she
set to work, while Corin ransacked everyone’s notes for more about
King Meryk. By the time the evening bell finally rang, the students
were more relieved to escape than usual: the Willym effect.

“What was all
that about?” Derrain asked as they left the hall.

“A letter from
Milli,” Corin said before Mhysra could reply. “She’s in love with
Lieutenant Stirla, but the earl would never agree to the
match.”

Mhysra scowled
at her. “She isn’t in love with him. They just flirt.”

Derrain
chuckled. “That’s what Corin got you two bells in the tanners for?
Poor bargain.”

“I don’t mind.
They’ll give me stitching.” Due to Corin, Mhysra often had
punishment duty. Now that she wasn’t being forced to sew useless
samplers and handkerchiefs, she’d found she had quite a skill for
it.

“Lucky you,”
Corin grumbled. “I always have to cure things.”

“That’s
because your attempts at stitching look like a drunk spider fell
into an ink pot,” Derrain told her, using Mhysra as a shield
against retaliation.

“He’s right,”
Dhori said, sidestepping the scuffle. “It’s quite a gift.”

Corin appealed to Mhysra for support, but
she shrugged apologetically.
“
He has a point.
”

“And you call
yourselves my friends,” Corin sniffed and flounced off.

After she left, Derrain turned to Mhysra and
grinned.
“
So, is Milli
really
in love with
Stirla
?”

AS THE STORM S
eason
gathered around Aquila, the first-years settled into a regular
routine. They flew every day, alternating mornings and afternoons,
and the rest of their time was filled with lessons. On Stardays,
the whole of Aquila flew, the bells calling them out to the eyries
without warning. The lieutenants claimed it was good practise to
spring a surprise summons, but Corin thought it was torture.

“
They
watch me, they must do, because the moment I go to the privy the
bell rings and I’
m stuck with my breeches round my
ankles!
”

Mhysra wouldn
’
t have put it past Stirla, especially after the
third time Corin almost suffered an undignified accident, but she
couldn
’
t believe it of
Lyrai. He was too steady, though a lot less stern and humourless
now that he had Hurricane. He was certainly better than Lieutenant
Willym. Was ever a man more contemptuous? Willym looked down on
everyone, but saved a particular brand of disdain for the girls. He
was as bad as her father.

Their lessons ranged from geography to
cooking, with arithmetic and even smith-work to keep their brains
and bodies busy. They trained with staffs before breakfast,
followed by swords, then archery after noon, and were sent on runs
through the citadel whenever someone felt the need to give them
more exercise. Captain Hylan, whose students were in the upper
years, particularly enjoyed making them scurry. As one of
Hylan
’
s Riders, Kilai
assured them the captain was the nicest, quietest man they could
meet. The exhausted students disagreed.

“He does have
a twisted sense of humour, though,” Kilai warned, but Mhysra and
her friends had already noticed.

Bad weather became so frequent that even
Mouse stopped twitching at the lightning. Only Dhori continued to
care, his eyes brightest when thunder was in the air.

“
You’re
unnatural,” Corin complained during Captain Fredkhen’
s
geography class.
“
How
can you stand it? My head pounds so much I could scream.
”

Dhori rubbed her tense neck.
“
I never claimed to be normal. Who
doesn
’
t love the raw
power of nature?
”

“
Me,”
Haelle croaked, head on the desk, in even worse shape than Corin.
“I just want one quiet day. I don’
t even mind if it
rains.
”

“
I want
to fly,” Mhysra grumbled. The storms had been so thick that she
hadn’
t so much as sat on Cumulo for six days, and before
that they
’
d had just two
flying lessons after a three day wait. Their current lessons were
confined to the eyries where everyone was taught how to feed and
care for their miryhl, with loud, unimpressed huffs from Cumulo
helping to keep things interesting.

“I thought you
liked thunderstorms?” Derrain said, copying the map from the
blackboard.

“So did I,”
Mhysra agreed. “Until I moved into one.”

“
You’
re no fun, none of you,
”
Dhori sighed, shaking his head at the lot
of them and staring out of the window at the rain-lashed
mountain.

“I never
claimed to be,” Corin replied, and groaned as thunder rolled once
more.

16
^th
Storm

FOR MOST, THE F
east
of Maegla was a day of private worship, but at Aquila it was the
most important festival of the year. The citadel and town
celebrated Her glory loudly, and She threw out the worst storm of
the season in response. But most of the students were too tipsy to
care.

“S’my
birthday,” Mhysra said to the ceiling, but no matter how many times
she said it, she still didn’t get any presents.

“I love you.
Did I ever tell you I love you?” Corin told Mhysra for the fifth
time.

“
Yes.”
As she’d said the same to Haelle, Mouse, Derrain, Lieutenant Stirla
and Lieutenant Hlen, Mhysra wasn’
t flattered.
“
You
’
ve had too much drink.
”

“I like it!”
Corin protested, as Mhysra took the bottle away. She tried to put
it on the table and missed. “You broke it!”

“
Didn’
t,
”
Mhysra retorted, juggling it until she got a grip.
“
See, some left.
”
Tipping back her head, she drained the
last third.

Corin stared at her in shock.
“
You drank it.
”

“I did.”

“
You
drank
it.”

“I did.”

“
You
drank
it!
”

“
She
did.” A veteran of intoxicating spirits, Derrain still seemed to be
in possession of his wits. “And you’
ve both had
enough.
”
He hauled them
to their feet.
“
Time for
bed. Lessons tomorrow.
”

“
S’no
point,”
Mhysra hiccupped gloomily.
“
No flying, no fun. S
’
my birthday, Derry. Will you take me
flying?
”

“Not when you
might get struck by lightning. Aquila frowns on that kind of
thing.”

“No fun,” she
repeated.

“
I
don’
wanna go bed,
”
Corin protested, tripping over a snoring student.
“’
m drinkin
’
.
”

“I noticed,”
Derrain said. “And now you’ve stopped. You’re done with
drinking.”

“
Nope.
Gotta keep goin’
. Buildin
’
ma courage. Gonna get a kiss.
”

Derrain raised his eyebrows, and Mhysra
stopped grumbling long enough to swing around.
“
Wotcha mean? Where you gonna get a
kiss?
”

Corin giggled.
“
On ma lips. At first.
”
She winked.
“
Maybe somewhere else, if he
’
s lucky.
”

Mhysra swayed as she tried to focus.
“
S
’
not what I meant. Who
’
ll kiss you?
”

“
S’
secret,
”
Corin whispered.
“
C
’
mere,
I tell you.
”