Glory Season

Maia longed far more to see Renna.

Does that make me a daddy’s girl? The juvenile epithet held no sting. Or am I a pervert, nurturing hearth feelings toward a man?

Philosophical dilemmas such as “why?” and “what?” seemed less important than “how?” Somehow, she must get Renna to safety. And if Leie chose to come also, that would be fine, too.

* * *

“We had better start thinking about putting in somewhere. It’s that or risk hitting rocks in the dark.” Brod held the tiller, constantly adjusting their heading to maintain southward momentum. With his other hand, he rubbed his chin, a common male mannerism, though in his case another distant summer must come before he felt a beard. “Normally I’d suggest putting out to open ocean,” he continued. “We’d lay a sea anchor, keep watch on wind and tide, and rejoin the archipelago at daybreak.” Brod shook his head unhappily. “Wish I didn’t feel so blind without a weather report. A storm could be just over the horizon, and we’d never know in time.”

Maia agreed. “At best, we’d waste hours and come back exhausted.” She unrolled the map. “Look, there’s one large island in this area with a charted anchorage. It’s not too far off our route, near the westernmost line of Teeth.”

Brod leaned forward to read aloud. “Jellicoe Beacon… Must’ve been a lighthouse sanctuary once, like Halsey. Deactivated and deserted, it says.”

Maia frowned, feeling suddenly as if she had heard that name before. Although the sun still lay some distance above the horizon, she shivered, ascribing the feeling to this creepy place. “Uh … so, shall we jibe to a sou’western tack, Cap’n?”

Maia had been half-teasing him with the honorific all day. Grinning, Brod responded with a grossly exaggerated accent. “Thet well bee doin’, Madam Owner. If yell be so kinned as te lend a help wit’de sail.”

“Aye, sir!” Maia took the taut, straining boom in one hand, setting a foot at the kick-strap. “Ready!”

“Coming about!” Brod swung the tiller, propelling the skiff’s bow sharply toward the wind. The sail fluffed and flapped, signaling Maia to haul the boom around from port to starboard, where the sail snapped full with an audible crack, sending them rushing on a new heading, surging up the long shadow of a tall island to the west. The late sun lit a luminous aureole of water vapor, a pinkish halo, turning the rocky prominence into a fiery spear aimed beyond the clouds.

“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 channel near Halsey Beacon.”

“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 Inanna and her murdering schemes. But you’re right. I don’t guess Corsh will see it that way. He’s probably already worried how he’s going to explain all this to the commodores.

“So we’ll try getting there near nightfall, tomorrow. I know a channel into the harbor. One that’s too shallow for ships, but just right for us. It leads to an out-of-the-way dock. From there, maybe we can sneak into the navigator’s suite and look at his charts. I’m sure he’s written down where the reaver hideout is. Where they’re keeping your starman.”

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 Renna were being held right there, at Halsey.” She sighed.

“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 Grimké, Brod had told Maia about the Visitor’s actions, just after Manitou was seized. By Brod’s account, Renna had stomped among the jubilant victors, protesting every violation of Stratoin law. He defiantly refused to move over to the Reckless until all of the wounded were tended. So stern had been his otherworldly countenance, his anger and clench-fisted restraint, that Baltha and the other reavers had backed down rather than be forced to hurt him. Brod never mentioned Renna paying special notice to one victim in particular, but Maia liked to imagine her alien friend’s strong, gentle hands soothing her delirium, and his voice, speaking in low tones, promising her firmly that they would meet again.

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 Joannaborg. One named Kevin? Calvin?”

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 Pinnipeds.”

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 Pinnipeds for generations. The mothers say it was once a great guild. Shipped fine cargoes, and its officers were welcome in High Town, winter and summer both. These days, the commodores take jobs like staffing Halsey Beacon, and now even hiring out to reavers.” He laughed bitterly. “Not a great billet, eh? But then, I’m no prize, either.”

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 manner wasn’t at all as she’d imagined.

They sailed on quietly, each of them deep in private thought. At one point, a swarm of sleek, dark shapes