Wingborn (5 page)

T
HE RIDERS GAPED
– the girl was telling the truth! She
really was from Wrentheria, the best miryhl breeders on the
Overworld. More than that, she was related to the family
and
was one of the rich, influential Kilpapans.

Brenai paled and fell back into his chair.
“
Lady
Mhysra
Kilpapan
, did
you say?” he asked weakly, the letter in his hand apparently
forgotten.

“
Yes,”
the lad replied cheerfully, as if he hadn’t just dropped a burning
pyrefly egg on the clerk’s desk. “Didn’
t she tell you?
Mhysra, didn
’
t you tell
him?
”

The girl
’
s smile was wry.
“
I was trying to get in on my own.
”

“
You
didn’
t mention Cue?
”

She
shrugged. “I tried, but Wingborn don’
t exist.
”

Mherrin chuckled.
“
I
’
ll let you tell Cumulo that. I stopped by after I
settled Ripple. He seemed happy to see me.
”
His bag whined and he twisted to reach
it.
“
Oh, I almost
forgot. Mam sent you something else.
”
Delving inside, he pulled out a bundle of fur and
feathers, black patches on white, rumpled and growling. A nakhound
pup. Seeing the girl, the puppy yipped, fluttering its black-barred
feathery wings, paws scrabbling at the empty air.
“
Merry Midwinter.
”

“
What
did you bring that for?” the girl demanded, yelping as the boy
threw the pup into the air, where it flapped with more enthusiasm
than success, forcing Lady Mhysra to dive to catch it. Tail
whipping about happily, the puppy washed the girl’
s
face.

“
She
pined for you, cousin. Saddest thing I ever saw. She searched all
over the eyries. Your chicks almost ate her, but they fought so
loud about it that they woke Mhylo. They’
re missing you too,
but Mam
’
s doing her
best. The fledglings looked for you a couple of times, but Da
rounded them up before they reached the village. Without Cumulo to
compete with they
’
re a
lazy pair.
”

Holding the nakhound at arm
’
s length, Lady Mhysra shot her
cousin an exasperated look.
“
She
’
s
one of Kilai
’
s.
He
’
ll kill
me.
”

“
He left
them to Mam
, and she knows best. Besides, he got one when he
joined the Riders.
”

“
I’
ve got Cumulo.
”

“
And he
has Cirrus. All’
s fair, cuz.
”

She scowled at him, tucked the puppy under
her arm and turned back to the desk.
“
Does this meet with your requirements,
sir?
”

Brenai was still blinking in astonishment at
the previous revelations.
“
I-I believe so, my lady. Though parental permission
is preferred.
”

“I was raised
by my aunt,” she said, icily polite. “She has every right to decide
my future.”

Fidgeting, the clerk scanned the letter
again.
“
Your aunt says
you are Wingborn?
”

“Yes.”

“And that you
are a Kilpapan?” Brenai sounded as though he was being
strangled.

“Yes.”

“Yet your
letter of recommendation is from Mhylla Wrentherin?”

The cousins shared a glance, and the girl
nodded.
“
My maternal
aunt, yes.
”

“Umm…” Brenai
tugged at his neckcloth, sweating at the prospect of either turning
away this gift of a student or offending the influential Kilpapan
family. “Would it be possible to receive a letter from your
parents?”

Lady Mhysra pursed her lips.
“
At this present moment,
no.
”

“Ah.”

“Not when
enrolment closed yesterday.”

Brenai coughed.
“
Well, classes do not begin for another five days.
If you were given the opportunity, do you believe it would be
possible to gain permission before then?
”

Her smile was beautiful.
“
For this chance, sir, I could do almost
anything. You
’
ll have
your letter before the first day of classes.
”
The cousins shared another look and the
boy winked. Lyrai wondered how legitimate any letter signed by Lord
Kilpapan would be, but it was no business of his. A Wingborn
belonged in the Riders, male or female.

“You have five
days, Lady Mhysra.”

“Thank you.”
She bowed to the clerk and jerked upright when the puppy licked her
nose. Casting it a disgusted look, she turned away, then paused.
“Might I request a favour?”

Exhausted by the morning
’
s tribulations, Brenai waved her towards
the two lieutenants.

Ever curious, Stirla stepped forward.
“How may I assist, my
lady?”

She studied his uniform, eyes lingering on
his shoulder stripes.
“
It
’
s
about my miryhl, sir.
”

“Please, call
me Stirla.” He swept up her hand – the one not holding the puppy –
for a kiss.

Her eyebrows rose and she bobbed a curtsey.
“
Thank you, Lieutenant
Stirla.
”

He patted her hand and Lyrai had to stifle
his amusement. He couldn
’
t believe that Stirla was flirting with a girl
seven years his junior – even if she was connected to two of the
most powerful families in the East Overworld. Girls her age, in
Lyrai
’
s experience, were
either unbearably silly or simply not interested.

“Tell me about your miryhl,
” Stirla prompted.

She frowned and dragged her hand free,
surreptitiously wiping it on her coat, proving Lyrai
right
.
“
He
’
s at
the city eyries –
”

Every Rider within hearing winced and Stirla
dropped his flirtatious air.
“
Say no more, my lady. You should have come to us
sooner.
”

Taken aback by such swift acceptance, she
smiled shyly.
“
I
wasn
’
t sure a civilian
would be welcome, sir. Many don
’
t agree with a girl having a miryhl, Wingborn or
not. And I
’
m afraid
he
’
s not looking his
best.
”

“
Understandable considering where you’ve had to keep him.”
Stirla shuddered, and he wasn’
t the only one. The Riders had
been trying to get the city eyries closed down for years, but since
the place was also used by pyrefliers and horsat messengers they
had yet to succeed.
“
Miryhls are Rider business, my lady, and
we
’
re always prepared to
listen to those who live with them. I
’
ll send someone to fetch him
immediately.
”
When the
girl opened her mouth, Stirla chuckled.
“
Or you could bring him
yourself.
”

“Thank you, sir.
”
Dipping another curtsey, she hurried after her
cousin.

“Well.” Stirla
turned to Lyrai, eyebrows raised. “That was interesting.”

“
And no
doubt will continue to be so,” Lyrai agreed, nodding for his men to
disband, since they weren’
t on duty until the afternoon.

“
Spending seven months in Nimbys doesn’
t seem so bad
now, does it?
”
Stirla
chuckled, accepting his packet of instructions from the harassed
Brenai.
“
Girls in the
Riders again and we
’
re
here to help. We live in interesting times, my friend. If
you
’
ll excuse me, I have
to go and prepare a space for our special guest.
”
Stirla set off towards the eyries,
whistling as he went.

“
Interesting times, indeed,” Lyrai murmured, and left to
find his sergeant. A surprise inspection of his flurry’
s
mounts sounded like a marvellous plan.

THE AIR HAD
an icy
bite as Mhysra exited the headquarters and raised her face to the
watery sun, murmuring prayers of thanks to as many gods as she
could name. Two for Maegla, since the Goddess of Storms was
Mhysra
’
s favourite and
the patron deity of the Riders. Opening her eyes, she looked down
across the city to where the Storm Goddess
’
cathedral rose high above the docklands
like a finger of divinity pointing to where all should look for
guidance.

Beyond it rolled the Cloud Sea, an
everlasting blanket of pure whiteness. Under the soft winter sun it
looked plush and inviting. Yet to step onto those false waves was
to fall for all time. Or so the legends said. But once there had
been something beneath it, once there had been a whole world down
there, before the gods cursed the people and covered the world in
white.

“Hey, Mhysra!
”

Wrenching her thoughts away from gods and
curses, Mhysra grinned and ran to where her cousin was waiting for
her.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!
”
she shouted, throwing an arm
around his neck and hugging him hard. Caught between them, the
puppy yipped happily and tried to wash both their faces at
once.

“You
’
re – urgh! Pup slobber.
”
Mherrin pulled free and scrubbed his sleeve across
his cheek, looking less and less like a professional messenger by
the moment. Instead he was just her favourite cousin, with his
wind-tossed curls, dancing eyes and ever-present smile.

“You
’
re wonderful,
”
she told him, popping onto her toes to kiss his
brown cheek.
“
I was
beginning to doubt they
’
d let me in, until you arrived like the south wind
at the end of winter.
”

“You know me,
”
he demurred with false modesty.
“
I always show up when I
’
m wanted.
”

“And even more often when you
’
re not.
”

Chuckling, Mherrin threw an arm around her
shoulders and they began the long descent to the city.
“
There
’
s my Mhysra. I was starting to think Nimbys had got
to you already.
”
At her
wince, he laughed.
“
Deportment lessons going well?
”

“Gods, don
’
t!
”
she
groaned.
“
You
’
d think I
’
d been a hunchback all my life.
It
’
s all
sit up
straight, Mhysra. Lift your shoulders, put your chin up,
don
’
t
slouch, breathe properly.
As if I
’
d been doing it wrong all these years.
”

“Since you
’
re still alive, I assume you
’
ve been getting some of it
right.
”

“You
’
d think so, but no, apparently not. I
’
ve developed some shockingly bad
habits, or so Milli says.
”
Having spent eight years living in the whirl of Nimbys society,
Mhysra’s sister Milluqua had taken on the daunting task of teaching
her youngest sibling how to behave. Much though Mhysra loved her
sister, things were not going well.

Mherrin laughed again.
“
Well, no surprise there. You
’
ve got a terrible predilection for
things with wings and the amount of clothes you got through back
home was appalling.
”

“Says you, the soot and scorch king of
Wrentheria,
”
she
defended hotly.
“
At
least mine was only blood.
”

“
Only
.
”
He snorted.
“
As if that makes it any better.
”

“Well, at least my clothes could be cut up
for rags afterwards. There was never anything left of yours once
the pyreflies were done with you.
”
She nudged him with her shoulder.
“
Did you ever think those burns
were a hint that they didn
’
t like you?
”

Her cousin gave a delighted chuckle – as
well he might. Everyone liked Mherrin, even bad-tempered,
fire-breathing, winged horses. As much as they liked anyone,
anyway.
“
If
that
’
s so,
what
’
s your excuse? That
blood didn
’
t get all
over your shirts by accident.
”

“Miryhls eat raw meat,
”
she protested.
“
And they
’
re messy feeders. The blood wasn
’
t mine. Mostly,
”
she added, to be fair.
“
Besides, everyone knows miryhl chicks play
rough.
”

Since they both knew she would never admit
to a fault in her beloved birds, Mherrin ruffled her curls and
changed the subject.
“
I
take it from the scene I just interrupted that the earl
’
s answer is still no.
”