A grimy-looking vessel cleaved the ocean, flinging spray from its bows. Only two sails were unfurled, but oily black fumes spilled from a pair of dark smokestacks. Agitated figures could be made out, milling on deck. The Manitou's engines, generally reserved for harbor maneuvers, were no match for that power.
Kau commented. "Reavers often hide big motors inside normal-looking clippers. No getting away from this bunch, I'm afraid."
The two girls heard a sigh. Standing nearby, looking at the foe-ship, Naroin recited:
"How Fast they came! Holy Mother, didst thou
With lips divinely smiling, ask:
What new mischance arrives upon thee now?"
There was sincere regret in the bosun's sigh, yet Maia watched the rippling of slim, taut muscles under Naroin's arms. Regret was not unstained by anticipation.
"Come on," the older woman said, nodding toward Baltha's squad. "Those southlanders have it right. Let's get ready."
Naroin gathered the foremost detachment of passengers, and started by inspecting their trepps, then passed out lengths of noosed rope which each woman hung from her belt. Soon she had them running through stretching routines. Maia threw herself into the exercises. The combination of hot tcha and exertion in minutes had her blood flowing, pounding in her ears. She smelled everything with unwonted intensity, from burning coal to the separate salt tangs of sea and perspiration. Colors came to her with an almost-painful vividness.
"Yah!" Naroin cried, swinging her bill. The women imitated. "Yah!" As they practiced, Maia sensed the pervading mood of fear evaporate. What replaced it wasn't eagerness. Only a fool could not see that pain and defeated humiliation might lay ahead. Even one or more deaths, if full battle could not be avoided. Facing professionals would be more fearsome than skirmishing with part-time clone militiawomen had been, back in Long Valley.
Still, being a var meant knowing you might spend time as a warrior. Nor were these just any vars. Those who helped Thalia and Kiel had known it would be a risky enterprise. For the first time since Grange Head, Maia felt a sense of linkage to these rads. The one to her left grinned and clapped Maia on the back when Naroin called a break. Maia returned the smile, feeling limber, though far from happy.
"Hailing Manitou!" An amplified male voice caused heads to turn. Maia hurried back to the rail and choked when she saw how close the reaver was. Its bowsprit came abeam with their own ship's fantail. "Hailing Manitou. This, is the Reckless, calling for you to heave over!"
Manitou's captain lifted a bullhorn and shouted back. "By what right do you accost us?"
"By the Law of Lysos, and the Code of Ships! Will you split your cargo, sir?"
Maia watched Poulandres turn to consult Kiel, standing by his side, who shook her head emphatically. He accepted her answer with a passive shrug and lifted the bullhorn once more.
"My employers will fight for what is theirs. The cargo cannot be divided!"
Maia shook her head. I should think not. She saw Renna, standing near the cockpit, swiveling back and forth, staring in amazement. Does he realize they're talking about him? She gripped her bill tightly, glad that her alien friend would be safe on the neutral territory of the quarterdeck during the coming fray.
The Reckless drew closer. It was a smaller ship than the Manitou. That, plus its powerful engines, made defense by maneuver useless. Neither captain would risk damaging his beloved ship in a collision. Not without insurance that neither reavers nor rads could afford.
A crowd of women had gathered at the approaching ship's starboard rail, clutching bills, truncheons, and loops of coiled cord. More clambered the masts, edging onto the swaying spars. All wore the infamous red bandanna. A chill coursed Maia's shoulder blades.
"Understood, sir," one of the bearded men at the tiller of the reaver answered through his own megaphone. "Will you accept trial by champion, then?"
Again, a consultation with Kiel, followed by another headshake. Most reaver bands employed special champions, professional fighters among professionals. The rads knew their odds were better in a melee, though at inevitable cost. This wasn't about sharing a hold full of cotton, coal, or dry goods. Theirs was a cargo worth fighting for.
Captain Poulandres passed on Kiel's refusal.
"Very good," the master of the other ship replied. "Then my passengers instruct me to say, Prepare for boarding!"
No further conversation was required. While the smaller vessel moved in, Maia saw Kiel shake hands with the captain, then leap to the cargo deck, taking up her bill and yelling to her comrades. Poulandres immediately called all male crew members aft. The seamen hurried, shouting encouragement to their female colleagues.
