It was raining when Wynn returned to the House on the

Water. She entered it now by the portal that Zeza Oyla had

deigned appropriate: she would now find herself inside a cold,

slimy oyster shell at the bottom of the sea. This meant that she

had to force her way out of it, swim to the surface, and invent

for herself a little boat or some craft to get her to the House.

        Once, he had allowed her to pass directly into the House,

but this was just to get her hopes up. The next time, she had

been forced to fight her way out of a whale's belly.

        Nevertheless, the oyster-portal was generally considered a step up in two ways: she had control over her own arrival, and was not trapped as she had been before, waiting for Zeza Oyla to release her. Also, this was the same way in which Hana entered the Far Country, usually. If it was good enough for Hana, then Wynn could hardly complain.

        The rain, however, was a new element. When Wynn broke the surface of the water, after a long ascent, she was surprised and shocked by what she found: not only rains, falling hard and cold, but strong winds that blew, creating large swells on the sea.

        Wynn felt herself floating like a cork, lifted up on the waves, riding their crests, then lowered again, into the trough.

        This would be a lot easier if I could fly, Wynn reflected – but this wasn't actually true, as the winds were blowing so hard. What she really needed was to swim, to dive under the storm, as a fish or a mermaid, and use fins, along with a mighty tail, to get through the water.

        She was, however, forbidden to change her shape without permission.

        A boat she could build, though, and wondered how it would fare in this storm. Pelted by the rain, pondering just this, Wynn was met by a second unexpected surprise: Hana, on a long surfboard, came coasting over one of the waves, aiming right for her.

        Hana had a line in her hand that was secured to a vest she wore; at the far end, up in the sky, pulling her forward, was a yellow kite that dipped and soared. For the wind and rain, Hana wore a pair of big goggles; floating behind her was a long yellow scarf that whipped about on the winds.

        Hana leaned back at an unlikely angle, kept aloft by her sky-anchor, and put her free hand into the water. Coming at a great speed, she grabbed Wynn's outstretched hand, and pulled her up onto the surfboard behind her.

        This had never happened before, that Wynn arrived in the Far Country at the same time as Hana. The storm, the surfing, and all the rest, was not as alarming as this coincidence. After all, one came to expect in the Far Country many odd things and countless marvellous wonders; but no meeting between two people was ever by chance.

        “Thanks for the lift!” Wynn cried.

        “You're right by my ear!” Hana replied. “No need to shout!”

        Wynn invented for herself a pair of her own goggles then contented herself for a moment on riding the water in this way. The kite that pulled them rode very high on strong winds. Hana had to work at it ceaselessly, so that it wouldn't fall, or be buffeted by gales too strong. By some lovely intuition, she was able always to find the right winds – none blowing too hard, and always in the right direction. Here on the Water, there was still a Way to follow.

        “Did Zeza Oyla summon this weather for us?” Wynn asked.

        Hana nodded. “It's part of my training. I am to participate this year in the Omendiamo, the great Tournament. That's why we're so far out!”

        It was true: they were far. Usually, whenever Wynn came to the surface of the sea, she could just barely see the the House, away at the Edge – or at least she could see the rising mists from the falls, shining as a haze on the horizon.

        This time was very different. After a while, Wynn realized that the blowing winds, very contrary, were actually Zeza Oyla's will set against them. Hana was duelling with him, essentially; and she was apparently doing quite well.

        That is, until the waves began to roll higher and higher, crashing down as they came.

        Hana had to climb up each one from within, in a very artful way. She had to send the kite reeling about while managing the surfboard strapped to her feet, finding her way both through the watery waves and the gusty gales.

        They were getting closer, but the challenges ensued. Great whales began to leap up from the deep, chomping their gigantic maws as they came. The first one of these, Hana sailed right between its open jaws, shooting through just as the enormous mouth closed.

        After that first scare, Hana seemed to sense when and where these sea-beasts would emerge and learned to avoid them. Jets of water from their blowholes shot up all around, like exploding mines.

        Wynn threw her head back and laughed, as the rain fell into her face. Hana's yellow scarf she had looped around her own neck once so that it floated now from her, from them both. The yellow kite made circles and quick, furtive figures in the air, leaving a trail of bright sparks as it flew. The surfboard, also yellow, held them afloat, skimming the enraged sea.

        What kind or colour of kite will I use, once I learn this trick? Wynn wondered. Will it be a kite woven of light, or wind, or rapsia wings? Will it be a kite of red, blue, or green? Will it bear me toward my love; will it fly in the right direction?

        Ice formed.

        Huge floes, and great bergs, bobbed and crashed together.

        Hana went on, undeterred. Each time a massy hunk of ice appeared before her, she sent the kite flying suddenly high, controlling the line; and it lifted them, board and all, into the air! Like this, they sailed over the icebergs and skipped over the ice floes.

        “Is that the best you can do, Zeza?” Wynn brayed, chortling.

        Hana turned her head slightly. “This is just an exercise,” she said. “If he willed it so, we would be stayed, Wynn. Zeza Oyla is one of the most powerful of the Order.”

        Wynn didn't care about any of that, though. She pretended as if she hadn't heard Hana. This ride was thrilling, and the most fun she'd had since the day Zeza Oyla had come to her on the White Beach and broken her arms by making her fall.

        When they came at last to the House, Hana and Wynn found blue skies. The waters, becalmed, moved fluidly towards the Edge once more, over which they continually rolled and tumbled. The storm had blown itself out in an instant.

        Hana circled three times in the water before the House, waiting to see if there would be any more surprises. None came: the exercise was apparently over.

        She rode into the pier, where Oyla's sailboat was moored.

        Wynn hopped off and pulled the goggles from her face with great vim. “That was great!” she exclaimed. “Can you teach me how to do that?”

        She turned back to face her friend. At that very moment, a great shark, rising up from the deep, opened its maw beneath Hana and took her in one bite, breaking the surfboard in two, and severing the line to the kite.

        Wynn fell back, giving a yelp of surprise and crawling away.

        Up in the sky, the receding yellow kite flew wildly, freely, heading out towards the abyss, where it would be lost for good. Watching the line floating away after it, Wynn had a sudden idea.