Indeed, flocks of winged creatures — some with filmy wingspans wider than the Manitou's spars — swarmed the floating island like midges on a dying beast, attacking the brightly hued portions. Maia replied, "I remember now. They're helping it. That's how the greatflower breeds. The birds carry its pollen in their wings to the next tree, and the next."
As they watched, a small detachment of dark shapes swirled off the cloud of birds and came swooping toward the Manitou. At the captain's sharp command, crewmen dove belowdecks, emerging with slingshots and wrist catapults, which they fired to drive the graceful, soaring beasts away from the straining sails. The fliers inflicted only a little damage with narrow jaws filled with jagged teeth, before losing their appetite for canvas and flying away . . . though not before one tried nipping at the bright red hair of one of the boys aloft. An event that everyone but the poor victim seemed to find hilarious.
The greatflower flowed past only a hundred meters away. Its maze of color could now be seen extending beneath the water's surface, in tendrils that floated far behind. Schools of bright fish darted among the drifting fronds, in counterpoint to the frenetic feeding of the birds. Maia snapped her fingers. "Too bad we missed seeing one in late summer, when the flowers are in full bloom. Believe it or not, the trees use them as sails, to keep from being blown ashore during storm season. Now I guess the currents are enough, so the sails fall apart."
She turned to Renna. "Is that an example of what you mean by … adaptation? It must be an original Stratoin life-form, or you'd have seen things like it before, wouldn't you?"
Renna had been staring at the colorful, floating isle with its retinue of scavengers, as it drifted behind Manitou's wake. "It's too wonderful for me to have missed, in any of the sectors I've been. It's native, all right. Even Lysos wasn't clever enough to design that."
Soon another greatflower hove into view, this time with fuller petals, diffracting sunlight in ways Renna excitedly described as "holographic." In turn, Maia told him about a tribe of savage sea people who had cast their lot forever with the greatflowers, sailing them like ships, collecting nectar and plankton, netting birds and fish, and snaring an occasional, castaway sailor to spark their daughters for another generation. Living wild and unfettered, the runaway society had lasted until planetary authorities and seafaring guilds joined forces to round them up as "ecological irresponsibles."
"Is that story true?" Renna asked, both dubious and entranced at the same time.
In fact, Maia had based it on very real tales from the Southern Isles. But the connection with greatflowers was her own invention, made up on the spur of the moment. "What do you think?" she asked, with an arched eyebrow.
Renna shook his head. "I think you're quite recovered from your near-drowning. Better have the doctor take you off whatever he's been giving you."
The last greatflower fell astern, and both crew and passengers soon returned to the tedium of routine. To pass the time, Renna and Maia used her sextant to take sights on the sun and horizon, comparing calculations and betting to guess the time without looking at Renna's watch. They also gossiped. Maia laughed aloud and clapped when Renna puffed his cheeks in a caricature of the chief cook, announcing in anomalously squeaky tones that lunch would be delayed because glory frost had gotten in the pudding, and he'd be cursed before he fed it to "a bunch o' unruly vars, too hepped t'ken a man from a lugar!"
"That reminds me of a story," she responded, and went on to relate the tale of a sea captain who let his passengers frolic in a late-evening glory-fall, then fell asleep, ". . . only to waken hours later when the women had set fire to his sails!"
Renna looked perplexed, so she explained. "See, some people think flames overhead can simulate the effects of aurorae, get it? The glory-doped women ignited the ship. . . ."
"Hoping to get the men excited, too?" He looked apalled. "But . . . would it work?"
Maia stifled a giggle. "It's a joke, silly!"
She watched him picture the ludicrous scene, and then laughed aloud. At that moment Maia felt more relaxed than she had in — who knew how long? There was even a hint of what she had experienced back in her prison cell … of something more than acquaintanceship. It was good having a friend.
But Renna's next question took her aback.
"So," he said. "Do you want to help me get ready for another Life match? Captain Poulandres has agreed to let us try again. This time the other side has to wind the pieces, so we can concentrate on coming up with a new strategy."
Maia blinked at him. "You're kidding, right?"
