Windbearers
Tall, streamlined people of the fastest winds in the Solar System. Everything on Neptune that is neither tied down nor heavy is carried away, so the Windbearers are both: stone weights on their feet, a line at the belt, an anchor under every house, and the heavier one's weights, the more the village listens. To them the wind is the speech of the world, and a guest without weights is a "lightweight" — welcome, but in need of something to hold on to.
«Hold on to something! Nothing to hold? Then hold on to me. You have no weights at all — how are you still here? I am …. Welcome, lightweight. Stand on the stone, not on the cloud.»
The settlement and its dwellers
Crafts
Looks
Where they live
Windbearers' Anchorage. An anchorage of the Windbearers: squat houses of dense stone with walls two stones thick, their low backs turned to the open cloud and their tall doorways to the lanes, every roof held down by ropes with stones hanging from both ends. Each slab of the anchorage rests on an anchor stone and hangs weights into the cloud, the way its people wear weights on their feet. In the middle stands the First Stone with the village lyre, and the elder stands beside it.
Tasks
An Anchor for the Sinking House· Anchor HaulerFind the guests' Sinking Station and bring the anchor hauler forty-eight blocks of cobbled deepslate and six iron chains for its anchors.
«The guests' house sinks a finger every year. It was never ours — but I watch it go down, and my boots ache. A house is only as heavy as what holds it. Walk there, lightweight, and see how deep it lies now. And bring me stone from the bottom of your Calm — the dark, heavy kind — and chains of your iron. I will set anchors for it.»
Stand in the Mouth's Wind· Anchor HaulerVisit the Altar of the Dark Spot, then live through the waking of the Dark Spot out on the cloud.
«The haulers have a bet going, lightweight, and you are the bet. When the Mouth wakes, the wind walks in a circle and pulls at everything light. Half of us say it will pull you in. I say a lightweight who first walks to the Mouth's own table will learn where to stand. Go to the altar with the black eyes, see how the wind walks around it — then stand through the Mouth's waking. Win me my bet.»
Singing Stones· Wind HarpistListen to the Wind Harp and bring the wind harpist sixteen amethyst shards for a new lyre.
«My lyre lost its voice in the last cold snap: the stones in its frame cracked. Your Calm has violet stones that sing when struck — the guests used to trade them. Bring me some. And before you come back, go and stand under the Wind Harp, the guests' mast that we restrung. Listen to it a while, lightweight. I want to know what it says to someone who has never heard it.»
Warmth for the Sleeper· Wind HarpistCarry six warmroots from the wind harpist to a sleep keeper of the Frostwalkers on Uranus.
«There is a voice in the wind that is not one of ours. It comes from the sunward side, slow and cold — from the pale green sleeper next door, the one that lies on its side. You have been there, lightweight; you smell of its frost. The harpists say our world is warm inside and that one is not. Take them warmroots — the roots that drink the heat of our Bottom — and give them to whoever keeps their sleep.»
The Heaviest Thing· Wind HarpistFind the heaviest thing in the sky with the graviscope: the dark heart behind the Archer.
«You have a glass that feels weight now — I can see it in how you look up: not at the stars, but between them. Listen, lightweight. In the middle of all the stars, behind the Archer, lies the heaviest thing there is. Everything turns around it, the way our sky turns around the Mouth. Our elders would give all their stones just to know it is there. Find it. Then come and tell me.»
A Line of Your Own· Rope BraiderBring the rope braider twelve windcatcher stems and twenty-four strings to braid you a line.
«You walk about with no line at your belt. No line! Every child here has one before it has a name. I will braid you one, lightweight — but a line is braided from what its wearer brings. Windcatcher stems: they grow twisted like rope, so the wind spins them instead of snapping them. And your soft white thread, the kind the guests bring. Bring both.»
A Line for the Deep· Rope BraiderCarry the new diving line from the rope braider to an abyss diver.
«Your line taught my hands something: braiding for one who was not born to the wind. So I braided a long one, for the deep. An eel bit through Haast's old line on the eels' road, and he came up holding the stub. Take this to the divers — whoever needs it most will know. It is the longest I have ever tied.»
Lamps That Are Not Ours· Abyss Diver· repeatableDefeat two Dark Spot maws that hang their lamps at the edge of the cloud.
«At night the maws come up from under the Mouth and hang their lamps at the edge of the cloud, and our little ones look at the lights and wonder. One day one of them will follow. I go down into the dark every day, lightweight; I know what waits behind a lamp. Put out two of them. I will pay every night you come back.»
Gifts of the Bottom· Abyss DiverLive through the rising of the diamond icebergs and show the abyss diver two black diamonds.
«Once in a while the Bottom sends its gifts up: the cloud glows and cracks, and a hill of ice comes up through it, full of black stones. On those days the divers do not have to dive at all. When it comes, lightweight, step away from the cracking — then climb the ice and dig. A diver who comes back with black stones is given a stone for the weights. Come back with two and show me.»
Fins for the Kites· Storm Catcher· repeatableBring the storm catcher four gale eel fins for new kites.
«The high wind tore two of my kites this week; it always takes its price. The best kites are made from eel fins — they were born to ride the fast wind. Bring me four, lightweight, now and then. Mind their flanks: they bite with lightning.»
The Kite's Eye· Storm CatcherFind the wreck of the guests' kite and bring the storm catcher an imaging plate — the eye from its nose.
«We laughed for a week when the wind bit through the guests' kite. Then we went to look at it and stopped laughing: wings of white metal longer than a house, and an eye in the nose. The guests say such an eye keeps what it sees on a plate. Go to the wreck, lightweight, and bring me the plate from the eye. I want to see what the kite saw before the wind took it.»
The Runner's Laughter· Storm CatcherLive through the Scooter — the White Runner's passing — and bring the storm catcher four pinches of stardust from its sparks.
«When the White Runner comes looping over the cloud, the children run after it with bags and catch its sparks before they melt. I am too old to run and too proud to ask a child. So I ask you, lightweight. Run after it — not into its heart, the cold there freezes your breath — and bring me four of its sparks. The harpists say it is the wind laughing. I want to keep a little of that laughter.»
The Hanging House· ElderGo down into the Abyss Vault — the guests' Hanging House under the clouds — and come back up.
«Under the white floor hangs the house the guests built to catch the diamond rain. It rolled over and went down when its hollow weight burst, and the fastest wind in the sky broke its windows and went in. Our divers give it a wide berth: their lines shake near it, and they hear the screaming in their teeth. Go down its throat, lightweight. Walk its decks and come back up. I want to know whether it still screams.»
Let the Wind Go· ElderDefeat the Abyssal Gale — the Locked Wind on the bridge of the Abyss Vault.
«We do not fight the wind, lightweight. Never. But a wind that cannot leave is no longer wind: it forgets its words and only screams. It has grown scales of black stone and coils on the bridge like an eel the size of a house. The altar there asks for two maw lures. Wake it and let it out. It is a release, not a killing: we untie our dead — you will untie a wind.»
The Ring on the Cloud· ElderWake the gate ring of Neptune: the old door between the skies.
«Now the old door. The ring on the cloud sleeps. It wakes only for one who has looked into the Mouth while it was awake and kept their feet, and who carries the heart of the Locked Wind. It wants stardust too — a great heap of it — and two black stones and six pieces of hot ice for its frames. A heavy price. Good: a light door would blow away.»
Ballast· Cargo MasterBring the cargo master six osmiridium ingots for the ballast of the Anchor.
«Lightweight. You hold on well, for one with no stones. The Anchor swings: the Oncoming One pulls the chain. Needs weight. The heaviest metal there is. Six bars. Bring them.»
Weight for the Ark· Cargo MasterCarry a black diamond from the Triton Anchor to an ark keeper of the Ark Bubble at Venus.
«The longest haul. By the Far Lamp there is a world of clouds. Its folk fly a bubble. A bubble with no weight. One gust, and gone. Take them a black stone. The heaviest we have. Let them hang it under.»
The Nearest Dock· Cargo MasterDock at the Stillwatch, the station of the Lunarians at the Moon.
«A cargo hand knows every dock. You know ours. The farthest from the Calm. Now learn the nearest: a ring of lamps by the pale stone. Dock there. Come back. Then you know the whole road.»
On Time· Cargo MasterBring the cargo master sixteen hull plates and eight tetrataenite ingots: a full load for the Anchor.
«Last haul. A full load. Sixteen plates. Eight bars of star-iron. The chain needs new links before the Oncoming One comes round. One who brings a full load on time holds a key here.»
Cold That Holds· Cargo MasterBring the cargo master three frost stingers from the ice jellies in the fields of the Kuiper belt.
«Lightweight. A job. Out past us, in the far ice, hang the bells. Blue. They sting with cold. Their stings keep the cold forever. My holds leak warmth: cargo spoils. Three stings. Bring them. Do not crowd the bells — they answer all together.»
What to talk about
Tell me about Neptune.
There is no ground here, lightweight. Only cloud on cloud, floor below floor, and wind through all of them. The wind never stops — it only gets louder or quieter. The Far Lamp gives almost no warmth, so the cold is everywhere. What is heavy stays. What is light goes. That is all of Neptune.
Why does the wind never stop?
Because the world is warm inside. The Far Lamp gives us little, but Neptune breathes out more heat than it gets — from its belly, from the Bottom. The warm rises, the cold falls, and the sky runs around the world faster than anything. We say the wind is the breath of the world. Every voice we have ever let go travels in it.
What is beneath the clouds?
More clouds. We live on the top floor, where the white cloud is firm enough to hold a stone. Below it is the eels' road, a long fall through empty air. Then the dark floor, indigo and cobalt, where black stones grow. Then the haze, thick as a blanket. And under everything lies the Bottom: they say the sky is pressed so hard there that it rains diamonds. No diver has reached it. The deeper they go, the warmer it gets.
Which moon walks backwards across the sky?
The Oncoming One. Everything in our sky runs with the wind; it alone walks against it. Only something very heavy can do that, so the Oncoming One is the eldest of all weights. But even it is losing: every year it comes a little closer. Our harpists say that one day it will fall, break apart and lie around the world as a ring. Not soon. Not in the life of anyone's grandchildren.
Who else lives on Neptune?
The lanterns drift in flocks above the cloud — little bells of cold light. They harm no one, and our divers carry their gel down into the dark. The gale eels ride the fast wind on their sails; leave them be, their flanks bite with lightning, but their fins make the best kites. And the maws... the maws come up from under the Mouth. Never follow a light at night that is not one of ours.
How do you bear this cold?
We were born in it: the cold is our weather, not our enemy. But you shiver even inside your shell, lightweight, I can see it. Here — warmroots. They reach down toward the warm Bottom and keep its heat inside. Eat one when the cold gets into you.
Who are you?
We are the ones who hold on. The wind of Neptune takes everything that is not tied down or heavy — so we are both. Stone on our feet, a line at the belt, an anchor under every house. Our grandmothers' grandmothers learned it before anything else: first hold on, then live.
Why do you wear stones on your feet?
Without them the first gust would carry me over the edge of the cloud. But weights are more than that. A child gets its first pebble on the day it stands up, and every good deed adds a stone: a line well tied, a diver pulled back, a storm sat through. The heavier the weights, the more the village listens. Look at the elder's boots — half a block of stone each. Nobody argues with that.
Could I have weights of my own?
Your boots would not hold real weights — they are soft, like the rest of you. But take this: the light-stone from the toe of my old weights. It is superionic ice, the heaviest thing that glows. Carry it in your pocket, and the wind will know you belong somewhere.
What do you do when one of you dies?
We untie them. The family takes off the weights, stone by stone, carries the body to the edge of the cloud and lets go. The wind takes them gently: it always knew they were coming. That is why we listen to the wind — everyone we have ever let go speaks in it. The stones stay with the family. My boots hold my mother's last stone.
Why is everything here tied down?
Because everything here wants to leave. Houses, pots, children, the elder's stories — all of it would go downwind if we let it. So every house is tied to anchor stones, every one of us wears a line at the belt, and every knot is a promise. When a braider ties you in, they say: "I will not let go." When the wind is loud, we clip our lines to the rings in the walls and wait.
What do you call my world?
The Calm. The guests say that on your world the wind lies down and sleeps for whole days: nothing blows away, and you do not even tie your houses. We laughed when we first heard it. And here is a stranger thing: your grandmothers found Neptune before they ever saw it — they felt our weight pulling at our neighbor. You found us by our weight, lightweight. That is the right way to find anyone.
What do your people do?
Haulers drag the dense stone and set the anchors — you know them by the anchor on the back. Harpists listen to the wind and tell us what it says. Braiders twist the lines that keep us here. Divers go down into the dark for black stones, and not all of them come back. Storm catchers fly kites into the high wind and bring down its sparks. And the elder holds it all together by being heavier than all of it.
What does the wind say?
Everything, if you know how to listen. It says when a storm is coming and from where; it says when the Mouth wakes; it says who is walking on the cloud before you see them. It speaks with the voices of everyone we have let go. Lightweights hear only noise. That is not the wind's fault.
Names
Hooru · Vaalm · Wuhra · Gorrow · Ulvenn · Mooro · Fennow · Dunnu · Ouvra · Rhoom · Shuun · Hvalla