Glory Season

"Assuming we find shelter in the lagoon at Jellicoe," Brod said. "We'll resume southward at dawn. Around midafternoon tomorrow, we can strike east, hitting the main cha

"The active sanctuary. Tell me about the place," Maia asked.

"It's the one citadel still operating in the Dragons' Teeth, sanctioned by the Reigning Council to keep order. My guild drew short lot to staff the lighthouse, so they sent two ships and crews they could most easily spare — meaning dregs like me. Still, I never expected the captain'd try picking up extra cash by hiring out to reavers." He frowned unhappily. "Not every fellow feels that way. Some like watching women fight. Gives 'em a summery hot, they say."

"Couldn't you get a transfer, or something?"

"You kidding? Middies don't question captains, even when a cap'n is breaking an unwritten guild tradition. Anyway, reaving's legal, within limits. By the time I realized Captain Corsh was selling out to real pirates, it was too late." Brod shook his head. "I must've shown how I felt, 'cause he was glad enough to offer me as hostage, while out loud yelling to the reavers what a great loss I was, and they'd better take good care of me!" The boy laughed harshly.

We're alike, poor fellow, Maia thought. Is it my fault I don't have any talents right for the world of women? Or his, that he's a boy who was never meant to be a sailor? Her bitter reflection was unalloyedly rebellious. Maybe it's just wrong to make generalizations like that, without leaving room for exceptions. Shouldn't each of us have the right to try what we're best at?

They were also alike in both having been abandoned by people they trusted. Yet he was more vulnerable. Boys expected to be adopted by a guild that would be their home from then on, while girl summerlings grew up knowing exactly what they were in for — a life of lonely struggle.

"We'd better be careful, then, when we reach Halsey. Your captain may not—"

"Be happy to see me?" Brod interrupted. "Hmph. I was within my rights, escaping with you and the others. Especially after Ina

"So we'll try getting there near nightfall, tomorrow. I know a cha

There was a slight edge to Brod's voice, as if he felt dubious about something. Their chances of success? Or the very idea of consorting with aliens?

"If only Re

"Doubtful. The reavers wouldn't leave a male prisoner where he could talk to other men. They have too much riding on their plans for him."

On Grimke, Brod had told Maia about the Visitor's actions, just after Manitou was seized. By Brod's account, Re

Brod had little more to say about Leie. He had noticed Maia's sister among the reaver band, notable mainly for her eager eyes and intense interest in machines. The motor-room chief had been glad to have her, and hadn't given a damn what gender a soot-stained crewmate carried under shirt and loincloth, so long as he or she worked hard.

"We only spoke privately once," Brod said, shielding his eyes as they sailed toward the late afternoon sun. He adjusted the tiller to a change in the wind, and Maia reacted by tightening the sail. "I guess she chose me since no one would care if I laughed at her."

"What did she want to talk about?"

Brod frowned, trying to remember. "She asked if I had ever met an old commodore or captain, back at my guild's main sanctuary in Joa

Maia sat up quickly. "Do you mean Clevin?"

He tapped the side of his head absentmindedly. "Yeah, that's right. I told her I'd heard the name. But they shipped me out so quickly after adoption, and so many crews were still at sea that I'd never actually met him. The shipname, Sea Lion, was one of ours, though."

Maia stared at the boy. "Your guild. It's the Pi

She stated it as fact, and Brod shrugged. "Of course, you wouldn't know. We lowered our ensign before the fight. Pretty shameful. I knew right then things were no good."

Maia sank back down, listening through a roil of conflicting emotions — astonishment topping the list.

"Starkland Clan has known the Pi

Maia examined Brod with renewed interest. From what the boy said, he might be her distant cousin, several times removed . . . only a temple gene-scan could tell for sure. It was a concept Maia had to struggle with, along with the irony that here, after so many frantic adventures, she had finally made contact with her father-guild. The ma

They sailed on quietly, each of them deep in private thought. At one point, a swarm of sleek, dark shapes cruised into view, some meters below their tiny vessel, undulating silently with sinuous power and speed. The largest of the creatures would have outmassed the Manitou, and took several minutes to progress, yet its smooth passage scarcely caused a ripple above as the skiff passed at an angle. Maia barely glimpsed the monster's tail, then the mysterious underwater convoy was gone.

A few minutes later, Brod shifted forward in his seat, staring as he shaded his eyes with one hand, his body abruptly tense. "What is it?" Maia asked.

"I'm . . . not sure. I thought for a second something crossed the sun." He shook his head. "It's getting late. How close to Jellicoe?"

"We'll be in sight after that next little spire, ahead." Maia unfurled the chart. "It seems to consist of about two dozen teeth, all fused together. There are two anchorages, with some major caves noted here." She looked up and gauged the rate of sunset. "It'll be close, but we should have time to scout a cha

The young man nodded, still frowning in concern. "Get ready to come about, then."

The maneuver went smoothly, the wind snapping their rugged sail into line as it had all day. Maybe our luck really has changed, Maia thought, knowing full well that she was tempting fate. Once they were cruising steady on the new tack, she spoke again, bringing up another imminent concern.

"Naroin made me promise to try calling her superiors, in case we find a radio at Halsey."

It wasn't a vow she relished. Maia personally trusted Naroin, but her superiors? So many groups want Re

One disturbing thought after another had occurred to her. What if the Council still has weapons like those that burned Grimke? What if they conclude a dead alien is better than one in the hands of their foes?