Glory Season (41 page)

“
Too late
,” Leie’s voice warbled from somewhere out of sight, mixing sadness with recrimination. A grinding sound told of the walls closing in, converging to crush them, to immure them in granite, leaving no escape.

“
You’re always so damn late
 …”

What hurt most was a vague sense of betrayal. Not by her sister, but the patterns. She had felt so certain of them. The figures on the wall. She had put her faith in them, and now they wouldn’t play.

Blurry patterns. Fickle, blurry forms, carved in living, moving stone.…

“… 
is … she … doin’ … any … better?
”

It was a woman’s distant tenor that surged and faded so … as if each word came floating out of a mist, packaged in its own quavering bubble.

The reply, when it came, was much deeper, like a sea god intoning from the depths.

“… think … so.… doctor said … hour ago … ought to … soon.”

At first, the voices were welcome intrusions, stirring and dissipating the clinging terror-strands of a bad dream. Soon, however, the words became irritants, luring her with hints of meaning, only to jerk away all sense, teasing her, thwarting an easy slide to quiet sleep.

The tenor returned, wavering less with each passing moment.

“Good thing … or those … heads would be … same as … ing murderers.”

A pause. The sea god intoned, “I … never forgive myself.”

“… had nothin’ … with it! Damn fools, tryin’
to … her behind, like some kid. Could’ve told ’em she … stand for it.… Spunky little var.”

At least they were friendly voices, she realized. Soothing. Unthreatening. It was good knowing she was being cared for. No need to worry yet over things like how, or why. Natural wisdom counseled her to leave it for now. Let well enough alone.

Wisdom. No match for the troublemaker Curiosity.

Where am I?
she wondered despite herself.
Who are these people?

From that moment, each word arrived defined. Freighted with meaning, context.

“So you’ve told me,” the deeper voice resumed. “We had some chance to exchange life stories in prison, but she never mentioned the details you told me. Poor girl. I had no idea what she’s been through.”

The man’s voice … was Renna’s. A small knot of worry unraveled.
I haven’t lost him yet.

“Yeah, well, if I’d kept my ears an’ eyes open, I’d have connected her with those rumors goin’ around, an’ gone ashore to check for myself instead of sittin’ on the ship like a dorit.”

The higher voice was also familiar, tugging at Maia’s recollection from what seemed ages ago, in a different life.

“And how about me? Swallowing a Mickey Finn, and letting those women carry me off like a partridge on a pole?”

“Swallowing a Mick … ? Ah, you mean a Summer Soother.”

Maia’s breath caught in surprise.
Naroin! What is she doing here?

Where is here?

“Yeah. Pretty dumb, all right. I thought spacemen were supposed to be smartguys.”

Renna chuckled ruefully. “Smart? Not especially. Not by the enhanced standards of some places I’ve visited. The
main trait they seem to want in peripatetics is patience. We— Say, did you hear that? I think she’s stirring.”

Maia felt a small cool hand along the side of her face.

“Hello, Maia? Can you hear me, younger? It’s me, your old master-at-arms from the
Wotan.
Eia! Up an’ at ’em.”

The hand was callused, not smooth. Yet it felt good just having someone touch her again. Someone who meant her well. Maia almost feigned sleep, to prolong it.

“I …” Her first word came out more a croak than decipherable speech. “C-can’t … open my eyes …” The lids felt locked shut by crusty dryness. A damp cloth passed gently over her brow, moistening them. When it pulled away, the world entered as brightness. Maia blinked and could not stop. Without conscious will, her leaden hands lifted to rub her eyes clumsily.

Two familiar faces swam into focus, framed against wood paneling and a ship’s porthole.

“Where …” Maia licked her lips and found her mouth too dry to salivate. “Where bound?”

Both Naroin and Renna smiled, expressing relief.

“You gave us a scare,” Renna answered. “But you’re all right, now. We’re heading due west across the Mother Ocean, so our destination seems likely to be Landing Continent. One of the big port cities, I figure. Better for their plans than where they found us, out in the boondocks.”

“They?” Bleariness kept intruding, causing the pale man and dark-haired woman to split into four overlapping figures. “You mean Kiel? And Thalla and Baltha?”

Naroin shook her head. “Baltha’s just a hired stick, like me. We aren’t part of the Big Scheme. Those other two are the paymasters. Seems a secret league of Rads has got plans for your starman, here.”

“No end to excitement on wonderful Stratos,” Renna added sardonically.

“Maybe … you could write a travel guide book,”
Maia suggested, concentrating to control her dizziness. Renna laughed, especially when Naroin looked at them both quizzically and asked what in Lysos’s name a “travel guide” was.

“What are you doing here?” Maia asked the woman sailor. “This can’t be Wotan.”

That much was obvious. Every surface wasn’t coated with a film of black, anthracite dust. Naroin grimaced. “Nah. Wotan banged into a lighter in Artemesia Bay. Captain Pegyul an’ I had words over it, so I took my wages an’ papers an’ got another berth. Just my luck to land one haulin’ the weirdest atyp contraband I ever saw—no offense, Starman.”

“None taken.” Renna appeared unbothered. “Think we’ll have any chance to jump ship along the way?”

“Wouldn’t bet on it, Shoulders. That’s one crowd o’ dogged vars escortin’ you. B’sides, I’m not sure I wouldn’t let things ride, if I was you. There’s a lot worse lookin’ for your handsy alien tors than’s got you right now, if you follow. Even worse than crazy Perkie farmers.”

Renna wore a guarded expression. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t you know?” Naroin shrugged and changed the subject. “I’ll go tell the customers our drowned wharf mouse has come around. Just you two remember the first rule o’ summerling survival.” She tapped the side of her head. “Small mouth. Big ears.”

Naroin gave Maia a parting wink and left, sliding the cabin door shut along its rails. Renna watched her go, shaking his head slowly, then turned back to Maia. “Want some water?”

She nodded. “Please.”

He cradled her head while holding a brown earthenware cup to her mouth. Renna’s hands felt so much larger than Naroin’s, if not noticeably stronger. He laid Maia’s
head back on the folded blanket she had been given for a pillow.

Or rather, lent.
I don’t own a thing in the world
, Maia thought, recalling the betrayal of Thalla and Kiel, that naked sprint through the streets of Grange Head, and her plummet into the icy bay.
And my best, maybe only, friend on Stratos is a stranger who knows even less than I do.

The thought would have made her laugh bitterly, if she had energy to spare. Maia fought a losing battle just to keep her eyes open.

“That’s all right,” Renna commented. “Sleep. I’ll stay right here.”

She shook her head. “How long …”

“You were out most of three days. Had to drain half a liter of water out of you, when they dragged you aboard.”

So much for those swimming lessons the mothers paid for
, she thought. Laps in the Port Sanger municipal pool had prepared her for real-life trials about as well as the rest of Lamatia’s much-vaunted summerling education.

“You’ve been here all the time?” Maia questioned Renna through an enveloping languor. He dismissed it with an offhand wave. “Had to go to the can once or twice, and … oh! I held onto something for you. Thought you might want it when you woke.”

Maia could barely focus on the glitter of brass as he slipped a small object, cool and rounded, between her hand and the coverlet.
My sextant!
she realized happily. It was just a silly, half-broken tool, of little utility. Yet it meant so much to have something familiar. Something allied to memories. Something that was hers. Tears welled in her eyes.

“Hey, hey,” Renna soothed. “Just rest now. I’ll be here.”

Maia wanted to protest that no one had to keep watch over her, but she lacked the will to speak. Part of her felt it was untrue.

Renna gently placed his hand over the one holding the sextant. His touch was warm, his calluses more evenly spread than Naroin’s coarse ridges. They must have come from more subtle labors, or perhaps even deliberate exercise, though, as she drifted off, Maia found herself wondering why anyone would ever lift a finger she or he didn’t have to. Better, it seemed, simply to lie in bed forever.

“What are you going to do, make me lie in bed
forever
?” Maia pounded the covers with both fists, causing the doctor to pull away the stethoscope. “Now, don’t get all worked up. I just said you should take it easy awhile. You’re young an’ strong, though. Get up whenever you like.”

“
Eia!
” Maia shouted, throwing the covers aside and bounding onto the wooden deck. Too quickly. She felt a rush of dizziness, but refused to let it show. “Anybody have some clothes to lend me? I’ll work off the debt first thing.”

“You don’t owe anybody,” Kiel said from the foot of the bed. “We’ll make up what was in the package we left for you, at the hotel. Clothes and some money. It’s yours, free and clear.”

“I don’t want your charity,” Maia snapped.

Standing across the small cabin, by the door, Thalla frowned unhappily. “Now don’t be mad, Maia. We only—”

“Who’s mad?” Maia interrupted, clenching a fist. “I understand why you did it. You’ve got big-time, political uses for Renna, and figured I’d just get in the way. Even though I’m a var like you.”

Thalla and Kiel looked pained, and relieved that Renna had stepped outside during the examination. “We’re engaged in dangerous business,” Kiel tried to explain.

“Too dangerous for me, but okay for Renna?”

“It’s probably a lot safer for the alien to come with us, than simply handing him over to the PES in Grange Head. There are … 
factions
in Caria City. Factions that don’t have sweet plans for our Outsider.”

Maia found that believable. “And you rads
don’t
have plans, I take it?”

“Of course we do. We want to make a better world. But the peripatetic’s goals aren’t incompatible with our—”

The physician closed his bag with a loud snap. His authoritative glare must have been learned at Health Scholarium. “S’cuse me for interruptin’, ladies, but did you say something about gettin’ this poor girl some clothes?”

Medicine was one rare track of higher education in which gender hardly mattered. Some excellent practitioners were men, who seldom let the innate mood swings of their sex interfere with professionalism. Thalla nodded quickly, at once the attentive and compliant var. “Yes, Doctor. I’ll get ’em now.”

At the door she turned back. “Meanwhile, don’t you run around naked on deck, Maia! Not a good habit in the big cities we’re headed to!” She giggled at her own wit and departed. Maia briefly glimpsed Renna pacing outside. He looked relieved when Thalla gave thumbs-up while closing the door.

“The youngster is undernourished,” the physician went on telling Kiel, while regarding Maia over the rims of his glasses. Maia crossed her arms and lifted her chin while he clucked disapprovingly over her thinness. “I’ll tell Cook double rations for a week. You make sure she eats every bite.”

“Yes, Doctor.” Kiel nodded obediently, waiting till he left before mimicking his stern look with knitted eyebrows and pursed, smacking lips. Under other circumstances, Maia might have found the lampoon hilarious. Now she
succeeded in remaining grim, sending the dark var what she hoped was a fierce glower.

Kiel answered with a shrug. “All right. Crawl back under the covers. I’ll answer your questions.”

Maia chose to take the maternalistic tone as patronizing. She remained standing and held up one finger. “First, what are you planning to do with him?”

“Who, Renna? Why, nothing much. There are some areas of technology we want to ask about. He may not know the answers in detail, but he can give us a general idea what’s possible and what isn’t. The solutions may lie in his ship’s computer.

“Mostly, though, we want to take him somewhere safe and comfortable, while we dicker with certain people in Caria.”

“Dicker? About what?”

“About how to get him back to the State Guest House without an accident happening along the way, and from there safely to his ship. He won’t really be out of danger till then.”

“Danger,” Maia repeated, rubbing her shoulders. “From whom?”

“From people who’ve convinced themselves they can forestall the inevitable. Who think contact would mean the end of the world. Who would fight it by killing the messenger.”

Maia had figured as much. Still, it was chilling to hear it confirmed.

“Oh, it’s not the whole government,” Kiel went on. “I’d say the majority of savants, and a good many council members, realize change is coming. They argue over ways of slowing it down as much as possible …”

“And you don’t want it slowed,” Maia guessed.

Kiel nodded. “We want to speed it up! Lots of us aren’t willing to wait two or three generations till the next starship comes, and then through more delays, and more.
The old order’s finished. Well past time to turn it on its head.”

“So Renna’s a bargaining chip.”

Kiel frowned. “If you want to put it that way. In the short term. Over the long run, our goals are compatible. If he does have a legitimate complaint or two about our methods, can he honestly say he’s not among friends? We want him to live and accomplish his mission. The rest is just details.”

Against her own wishes, Maia found herself believing Kiel.
Am I being gullible? Why should I even listen, after what she tried to do?

“You could help him call his starship, to come and get him.”

Maia didn’t like Kiel’s indulgent smile, as if the suggestion were naïve. “The ship had but one lander. Anyway, it can only be sent back into space from the launching facility at Caria.”