move by the Long Valley clans. They weren’t out of Perkinite reach, yet. Safety still lay in numbers.
Which suited Maia fine. For the first time, it really seemed likely she wasn’t going back to prison. Her worries had started evaporating on first sight of the beautiful sea.
Even the drab stucco and brick warehouses of the trading port seemed more gay than the last time she had been here, an innocent fiver, immersed in mourning and despair.
With its view overlooking the harbor, but some distance from dockside fish smells, the hotel was far superior to the cheap transients’ lodge where she had lain wracked with fever, months ago. When Maia learned she would have her own small room, with a real mattress, she hurried to look it over, finding herself barely able to conceive of such luxury. You could even walk alongside the bed and spread your arms without touching a wall!
The impression of spaciousness was enhanced by her lack of worldly possessions.
Back on the veranda, her compatriots had settled in with bottles of beer, watching the shadows lengthen. A few had chipped in for a newspaper, a luxury since in most towns the press was ran by subscription only, for the richest clans. The rads sourly disparaged the
“Perkies runnin’ against Ortho-doxies,” sniffed Kau. “Some choice! An’ look, barely any mention of planetwide issues. Nothin’ to tempt a var or man to think about votin’. And not a hint about any missin’ Visitor from space!” She and Thalla spoke longingly of the two-page weekly put out by their own organization, back in Ursulaborg. “Now
Maia paid scant attention. Freedom was too fresh and pristine to complicate with politics. Everyone knew such matters were worked out long in advance, by ancient mothers living in golden castles, in Caria City. Instead, she scanned the hills rimming the bay. Perched above all other structures, the Orthodox temple of Stratos Mother was a white sanctuary, shimmering in the afternoon sunshine. Maia recalled the refuge with gratitude, and made a note to visit the reverend mother. Partly to pay respects, and partly … to ask if any messages had come for her.
There wouldn’t be any, of course. Despite all that had taken place, all she had done to insulate her grief, Maia knew what would happen when the priestess shook her head and compassionately spread her hands. Maia would experience all over again her sister’s loss, the sense of hopelessness, that yawning pit, threatening to swallow her whole.
That visit could wait another day or two. For now it would do to lean back with the others on the hotel’s long porch, have a glass of tepid beer, share a tall tale or two, and keep her mind diverted with simple things.
By consensus and natural gallantry, everyone agreed that Renna should take his turn with the bath first. The man started to protest, then chuckled, and said something mysterious about what one does when in a place called “Rome.” Two women accompanied him to stand watch outside the bathroom door, guarding his privacy.
After Renna left, several vars began pounding the table in earnest, shouting gaily for more ale. Except for Thalla, Maia hardly knew any of them. Kiel’s friend, Kau, passed the time polishing a wooden truncheon with a barely legal edge and point, wincing on occasion when she gingerly touched Renna’s bandage over her right ear. One of Baltha’s companions, a woman with a strong South Isles accent, kept pacing, looking toward the mountains and then out to sea again, muttering impatiently.
Maia found herself unable to stop scratching. The mere idea of a bath had infected her mind, causing her to notice itches that, till now, she had pushed to the background.
Fortunately Renna didn’t take long, for a man. He emerged wearing a smallish hotel robe, transformed with a trimmed beard, combed hair that curled as it dried in the breeze, and a rosy tone to his fresh-scrubbed skin. He bowed to the approving whistles of the southlanders, and accepted from Kau a stein of the local, watery brew. “It’s a wonder what a scrub can do for a boy,” he commented. Toweling his hair one-handed, he took a long swallow. “So, who’s next? Maia?”
She started to protest. She was lowest in status. But the others agreed by acclamation. “After all, it’s been as long for you as it was for him!” Thalla said kindly. “That Perkie jail must’ve been awful.”
“You’re sure…?”
“Of course we’re sure. Don’t worry about th’ hot water, sweets. Soon, we’ll be able to afford a lakeful. Shower good an’ sit in the tub long as you like.”
“Yeah, we’ll be busy, anyway,” Kau added, sitting next to Renna.
“Busy getting drunk as die-pigs, you mean,” Maia jested, and felt warmed when they all laughed in a comradely way. Renna winked. “Go on, Maia. I’ll make sure everyone behaves.”
That brought more hooting. Maia gave in with a smile of gratitude. Before-hurrying toward the luring smell of steam and soap, she unstrapped the little sextant from her wrist and handed it to Renna. “Maybe you can stop the sun filter from wobbling. Give you something to do with your hands.” Thalla sputtered in her beer and several others guffawed. “Shouldn’t be too hard for a hotshot star traveler to do,” Maia finished.
“You kidding?” he protested. “I barely make it to the can and back without a computer!”
“Would he be here with us, if he didn’t have a knack for getting lost?” Thalla agreed, shouting after Maia, then added, louder still, “Innkeeper! More ale!”
The bathroom lay up a double flight of plank stairs. Closing the door behind her, Maia could still hear the women below, joking and laughing, and Renna’s deeper voice joining in occasionally. Mostly, his contributions sounded like questions, though Maia could not make out words. Often, his queries brought on gales of laughter, which he seemed to take in good grace.
It felt strange undressing in the richly tiled bathroom, equipped with amenities she had to remind herself how to use. Maia kicked her soiled garments into a corner and went first to the shower, adjusting the knobs until hot water from the rooftop heater flowed steadily.
Rinsing carefully one last time, Maia turned off the tap and tiptoed over to the broad wooden tub, by a small window overlooking the wharfs of Grange Head. She flipped back the hinged cover, exposing the steaming surface. To her relief, the water was pristine. There were stories about male sailors who forgot—or had never been taught—the proper procedure, and who actually used the bath for cleaning themselves, leaving the tub coated with soap and scum for the next person. With men, one just never knew what to expect, and as an alien, Renna might have been doubly confused.
Then again, perhaps there was only one civilized way. However barbaric their unmodified sexual patterns, cultured people on other worlds probably bathed the same way as on Stratos.
Alas, there would be no time to ask about that, or countless other quandaries, before escorted aircraft came from the west to whisk Renna away. At odd moments during their escape, she had pictured going with him all the way to Caria and seeing the city’s wonders. But in more lucid reflection Maia knew—she might as well ask to be taken along when he departed for the stars.
I
