Ventus by Karl Schroeder

Karl Schroeder / Ventus / Page 128
seemed animated enough. At the head table, Yuri seemed most
relaxed, his slack-jawed pale face shining in the gas light. But,
Jordan noticed, his hair was plastered to his forehead with
sweat, and it wasn't hot in here. Of course, Yuri was right next
to the fire.
In more ways than one, Jordan thought, and smiled.
"You wouldn't wish to have the troubles of the highborn,"
Jordan's father had told him more than once. Just now he
agreed.
Jordan leaned back and closed his eyes.
His ruined hand brushed aside twigs, revealing a forest
path. With a sigh he stepped down to it. For a moment he
swayed, and put one hand out to steady himself against a tree.
Then he sat down.
Armiger looked up at the sky. Night was coming. He
had been walking for two days now without pause; night
merely slowed him down. At first it had been mechanical,
aimless activity. Gradually as he walked, though, the bright air
and thrum of life all around him awakened something in him--a
kind of recognition, an identification with the things that grew
and struggled all around. If he squinted at the sky, his healing
eyes could perceive the faint threads of the Diadem swans
wavering in their high seats. The Winds still did not know he
was here. But while the sight of them filled him with a deep
pang of loss--for they were his own kind, if distantly related--it
was the buzzing insects and the gaudy flowers that he drew
strength from. The swans, like his greater Self, were
inaccessible.
As he walked, Armiger for the first time contemplated
what it meant to be mortal.
Now as he paused on this tenuous path, he forced himself