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 Thalia 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.
