Glory Season

Her way lay past the main foyer of this wing and into the next, where a staircase led up to an ancient tower. Voices drew near, descending. Maia ducked into shadows as another pair of Persim entered view.

"… not sure I like sacrificing so many to the courts, dammit."

"Ten is the least the Reeces say'll pass. Sometimes you must trust your lawyer clan."

"I suppose. What a farce, though. Especially when we've won!"

"Mm. Hard on those going down. Glad it won't be me."

The pair turned past Maia, the second voice continuing with a sigh. "Clan and cause, that's what matters. Let the law have its …"

When the way was clear, Maia hurried up the stairs the two had just vacated. The first landing was dim, and she felt sure her goal lay higher. From her room, she had watched a light burn many times, accompanied by reverberations of tense argument. Tonight there had been jubilation.

Three levels up, an open set of doors faced the landing. An electric bulb burned under a parchment lampshade, casting shadows across towering bookshelves. An ornate wooden table lay strewn with papers, surrounded by brass-studded leather chairs in unseemly disorder. Presumably, the mess would be cleaned up in the morning. Maia entered hesitantly. It was a more impressive room, by her prejudices, than the ornate opera house. She yearned for the volumes lining the walls, but headed first for the detritus of the adjourned meeting, uncrumpling bits of scrap paper, poking through sheets apparently torn out of ledgers and covered with scribbled accounts . . until she found something more easily interpreted. Another newspaper, complete this time.

Indictments Filed in Visitor Kidnapping

The tragic events which took place in the Dragons' Teeth, during Farsun Week, reached a climax today when the Planetary Prosecutor presented charges against fourteen individuals allegedly responsible for the abduction of Re

Maia skimmed ahead.

. . . rogue individuals from the Hutu, Savani, Persim, Wayne, Beller, and Jopland clans are now expected to file guilty pleas, so the case will likely never go to trial. "Justice will be served," a

To demands for an open public trial, officials of the High Court reply that they see no need to inflame today's atmosphere of near-hysteria. So long as the guilty are punished, added sensationalism will not serve the civic interest. . . .

This explained some of what she had overheard. The good news was that even the wi

Yet ironies abounded. The law emphasized deeds by individuals. That might have made sense back in the Phylum, but here, actions were often dictated by groups of clans. As in elections, the law pretended universal rights, while securing the interests of powerful houses. There was another article.

Twelve Guilds Accept Compromise

Agreement appears to have been reached in the labor dispute now disrupting commerce along the Mediant. In giving up their more absurd demands, such as shared governance of the newly created Jellicoe Technical Reserve, the sailing guilds have at last acceded to logic. In return, the Council promises to erect a monument in honor of the Visitor, Re

So Brill was right. The men and their allies couldn't fight inertia, the tendency of all things Stratoin to swing back toward equilibrium. The guilds had won a token concession or two — Maia felt especially glad that Re

Maia glanced at a photograph accompanying the article: Commodores and Investors Discuss New Venture, the motion read. Pictured were several sailors dressed in officers' braid, looking on as three women showed them a model ship. Maia bent to look closer, and stared. "Well I'll be . . ."

One of the women in the photo was a younger version of Brill Upsala, eagerness lighting her eyes like fire. The sleek ship was of no design Maia knew, lacking sails or smokestacks. Then she inhaled sharply.

It was, in fact, a zep'lin.

Is that the "auxiliary vessel" they're talking about? But that would mean —

A voice came out of nowhere.

"So. Always one to show initiative, I see."

Maia swiveled catlike, arms spread wide. Behind the door, in a dim corner of the room, a solitary figure lay slumped in a plush chair, clutching a cigar. A long ash drooped from the smoldering end.

"Too bad that initiative won't take you anywhere but the grave."

"You're the one that's going to feed the dragon, Odo," Maia said with satisfaction. "Your clan's dumping you to buy off the law."

The elderly Persim glared, then nodded. "We're taught to consider ourselves cells in a greater body. . . ." She paused. "I never considered, till now . . . what if a cell doesn't want to be sacrificed for the smuggy whole?"

"Big news, Odo. You're human. Deep down, you're just like a var. Unique."

Odo shrugged aside the insult. "Another time, I might have hired you, bright summer child. And left a diary warning our great-granddaughters to betray your heirs. Now I'll settle for warmer revenge — taking you with me to the dragon."

Maia fell back a step. "You . . . don't need me anymore. Or Leie or Brod."

"True. In fact, they have already been released to the Nitocris. Their vessel docks in less than a week."

Maia's heart leaped at the news. But Odo went on before she could react.

"Normally, I'd let you go as well, and watch with pleasure as your fancy friends all fall away, hedging their promises, leaving you with a tiny apartment and job, and vague tales to tell one winter child — about when you rubbed elbows with the mighty. But I won't be around for that bliss, so I'll have another. The Persim owe me a favor!"

Maia whispered. "You hate me. Why?"

"Truth?" Odo answered in a low, harsh voice. "Jealousy of the hearth, varling. For what you had, but I could not."

Maia stared silently.

"I knew him," Odo went on. "Virile, summer-rampant in frost season, yet with the self-control of a priestess. I thought vicarious joy would suffice, by setting him up at Beller House, with both Bellers and my younger siblings. Yet my soul stayed empty! The alien wakened in me a sick envy of my own sisters!" Odo leaned forward, her eyes loathing, "He never touched you, yet he was and remains yours. That, my rutty little virgin, is why I'll have a price from my Lysos-cursed clan, which I served all my wasted life. Your company in hell."

The words were meant to be chilling. But in trying to terrify, Odo had instead given Maia a gift more precious than she knew.

… he was and remains yours …

Maia's shoulders squared and her head lifted as she gave Odo a final look of pity that clearly seared. Then she simply turned away.

"Don't try to leave!" Odo called after her. "The guards have been told. …"

Odo's voice trailed off as Maia left the muted room and its bitter occupant. She descended the drafty stairway, but instead of turning toward her room, she continued down one more level to the ground floor, and then crossed a wide, dimly lit atrium beneath statues depicting several dozen identical, joyless visages. She pulled the handle of an enormous door, which opened slowly, massively.