Glory Season

wondered what would happen if she dreamed. Whose face would come to her? Brod’s? Bennett’s? The men of Pinniped Guild?

Would womanly hormones set off renewed, painful longing for Renna, her first, though chaste, male love?

The shock of meeting her natural father had not ebbed. Her thoughts roiled and she tossed in confusion. When Maia finally did dream, it was a strangely intangible fantasy—of falling, floating, amid the startling, abstract, ever-changing figures of the Jellicoe wonder wall.

Soon after dawn, the doctor arrived and announced in satisfaction that it would be her next-to-last visit. When she removed the agone leech, it was a chance for Maia to look closely at the box that had suppressed full vividness from both her body’s ache and her heart’s grief. It seemed a modest item, mass-produced and plentiful enough to furnish even the humblest medic, anywhere on Stratos. Now Maia also knew it as another product of a lesser Former, one of those automatic factories still operated under close watch by the Reigning Council. Clearly, some manufactured items were too important to be left to pastoral puritanism. If Perkinism prevailed, however, even these merciful boxes might go away.

“You’ll still be needin’ a bit more rest an’ recoop here in Ursulaborg,” Naroin explained later that morning, on returning from her urgent errand. “Then it’s off to Caria for a command performance before as posh a gaggle o’ savants as you’ve ever seen. What, d’you think o’ that?”

Maia unfolded the arms of her replacement sextant and sighted on a grimlip flower. “I think you’re a cop, and I shouldn’t say anything more till I see a legalist.”

“A legalist?” The small woman’s brow knotted. “Why would you be needin’ one?”

Why, indeed? Naroin might be her friend, but a clone was never entirely her own person. Once Maia was brought to Caria, Maia could think of a dozen excuses the powers that ruled Church and Council might use to lock her away. In a real prison, this time. One without secret byways, patrolled by clone guardians tested over centuries, genetically primed for vigilance.

Maia had decided not to let it come to that. This time, she would act first. Before she was taken from Ursulaborg, there should come a chance to slip away. Perhaps during her daily ride. Once away through the city crowds, she would seek shelter in an out-of-the-way place where important people might never trace her. Some quiet, dead-end seaside town. I’ll find a way to get word to Leie, Brod. We’ll open a chandler’s shop. Repair sextants damaged by lazy sailors.

Perhaps Naroin could be persuaded to look the other way at the right moment. Best not to count on it, though.

“Never mind,” she told the short brunette. “Had a nightmare. Can’t shake the feeling I’m still living in it.”

“Who could blame you, after all you’ve been through.” Naroin grinned. When Maia failed to respond, she leaned forward. “You think you’re under arrest or somethin’? Is that it?”

“Could I walk out the front gate, if I so chose?”

The wiry ex-bosun frowned. “Wouldn’t be wise, right now.”

“I thought not.”

“It’s not what you think. There’s folk who don’t hold your health as dear as we do.”

“Sure.” Maia nodded. “I know you’re lots nicer than some would be. Forget I asked.”

Naroin chewed her lower lip unhappily. “You want to know what’s goin’ on. It’s all changing so fast, though… Look, I’m not supposed to say anythin’ till she arrives, but there’s someone comin’ tomorrow to talk to you, and then escort you to the capital. I know it’s fishy sounding, but it’s needful. Can you trust me till then? I promise it’ll all make sense.”

A petulant part of Maia wanted to cling to resentment. But it was hard to stay wary of Naroin. They had been through so much together. I’d rather be dead than so suspicious I can’t trust anybody.

“All right,” she said. “Till tomorrow.”

Naroin left again. Later, Maia and her escorts were about to depart on the afternoon litter ride when Hullin reached up to hand Maia a second folded sheet of heavy paper, sealed with red wax. Maia’s heart lifted when she saw Brod’s handwriting. She waited until the palanquin was jostling through the suburban market square, then tore it open.

Dear Maia,

Leie’s fine and sends her love. We both miss you, and are glad to hear you’re in good care. Here’s hoping life is nice and boring for you, for a while.

Maia smiled. Just wait till they get her next letter! Leie would julp with jealousy that she hadn’t met Clevin first! There were other, more serious matters to discuss, but it would be good to report that one of their childhood fantasies had actually come true.

Lysos, how she missed Brod and Leie! Maia desperately wished they would come soon.

We’ve been less busy lately. Spending most of our time just standing around while high-class mothers point and wave their arms and yell a lot. In fact, I’m surprised Leie and I are still here, since a bunch of savants arrived from the University with big consoles, which they proceeded.to attach to your picture wall. They’ve been making it do amazing things. Stopped asking Leie questions about it, so I guess they think they’ve figured it out.

Maia wondered, Why does that make me feel jealous? Now that the secret was out, it only made sense to have scholars investigate the wonders of another age. Perhaps they’d learn a thing or two… even change their minds about some stereotypes.

All the men are gone now, except those serving the ships which bring supplies. So are the vars and local cops who helped retake Jellicoe from the reavers. We’ve been told not to talk to any of the sailors, who aren’t allowed into the Sanctuary or Former. The men spend whatever time they have, between loading and unloading sealed crates, just rowing around the lagoon, checking out caves, sightseeing. I don’t think I’ll have any trouble slipping this letter to—

The litter jerked, breaking Maia’s concentration. The market was unusually crowded today. Peering over the throng, Maia saw a disturbance a few dozen meters ahead. A trio of shoppers were arguing vehemently with a storekeeper. Suddenly, one of them picked up a bolt of cloth and turned to leave, causing the merchant to screech in dismay. Maia picked up the word “Thief!” shouted over the general hubbub. Ripples of agitation spread outward as clone sisters of the sales clerk spilled out of the building behind her. Others converged to aid the shoppers. Shoving and yelling escalated with startling rapidity into unseemly grabbing, and then blows, spreading in Maia’s direction.

The temple wardens moved to interpose themselves while Hullin tugged at the upset lugars, urging them to turn around. They managed to swing off the main thoroughfare into a side alley, the only avenue of escape, ducking awkwardly under a jungle of clotheslines. “Uh,” Maia started to suggest. “Maybe I should get down—”

Hullin gave a startled cry. The fiver’s head vanished under a blanket thrown from a nearby shadowed doorway, drawn tight with cord. The lugars grunted in panic, dropping one pole of the litter, teetering Maia vertigously outward as she grabbed futilely after Brod’s fluttering letter.

Suddenly, she found herself staring straight into the blonde-fringed face of—Tizbe Beller!

Maia had only an instant to gasp before black cloth surrounded her as well, accompanied by the rough