Maia agreed, but what to do? It had all been decided at a meeting, three days after the reavers dumped them on this spirelike isle whose name, if any, must be lost to another age. Naroin had argued for a different scheme — the building of one or two small boats, which a few selected volunteers might sail swiftly westward in search of help. That proposal was voted down in favor of the raft. "Everyone goes, or nobody!" Inanna declared, carrying the day.
Left out was how they proposed to make such a big contraption seaworthy, then get it down the sheer fifty-meter drop, and away from the spuming interface of wave and rock. Only one place along the forested rim of the jagged promontory featured a way down. There a winch had lifted the prisoners and their provisions, just before the Reckless and the captured Manitou sailed off. Inanna and her friends still schemed to use the lifting machine, despite its metal casing, locks, and earlier warnings of booby traps. In the long run, however, they might have to resort to building a primitive crane of timbers and vines.
"Idiots," Naroin muttered. She thrashed at the low foliage by the trail, using a short stave she had trimmed just after landfall. It was no trepp bill, but the small, wiry seawoman seemed more comfortable with it in her hands. "They'll never make it, an' I'm not drownin' with 'em."
Maia was getting fatigued with Naroin's impatient temper. Yet, she did not want to be alone. Too many dark thoughts plagued her when solitude pressed close. "How can you be sure? I agree your plan would have been better, but—"
"Bleeders!" Naroin slashed with her staff, and leaves flew. "Even a bunch o' frosty jorts oughta see that raft's all wrong. Say they do get it down, an' the sea don't smash it right up. They'll just get plucked again, like floatin' melons. If the pirates don't grab the chance to send 'em straight to Sally Jones on the spot."
"But we haven't seen a sail since we were marooned. How would the reavers know when and where to find them unless . . ." Maia stopped. She stared at Naroin. "You don't mean . . . ?"
The bosun's lips were thin. "Won't say it."
"You don't have to. It's vile!"
Naroin shrugged. "You'd do the same, if you was them. Trouble is, there's no way to tell which one it is. Or maybe two. Didn't know any o' them var hands before I hired on, at Artemesia Bay. Can't be sure of any of 'em."
"Or even me?"
Naroin turned and regarded Maia straight on. Her inspection was long and unsettlingly sharp. After five seconds, a slow smile spread. "You keep surprisin' me, lass. But I'd bet my sweet departed berry on you, despite you bein' no var."
Maia winced. "I told you before. That was my twin."
"Mm. So I recall from th' old Wotan days. At least, it's what you two said then. I admit, that wasn't clone-sister sweetness I saw, when she dumped you here."
Maia managed not to flinch a second time. The reminder was like stretching new scar tissue. The memory was still intense, of Leie's soot-streaked face, peering at her through that concussion haze, murmuring in a low, urgent voice of the necessity of what she was about to do.
"I'm happy you're alive, Maia. Truly, it's a miracle. But right now you're a smuggy nuisance to have around. My associates have a thing about people who look too much alike, if you know what I mean. Even if they believed me, there'd be suspicions. My plans would be set back. I can't afford to have you screw things up, right now."
There had been a wet, sticky sensation. Something tingling slathered across Maia's face, and a burning sensation crossed her scalp. At the time, Maia had been semidelirious, frantic to speak to her unexpectedly living sister, unable to comprehend why her mouth was gagged. Only much later, when she had a chance to scrub at one of the island's tiny freshwater springs, did she figure out what Leie had done. Using coal tar and other chemicals from the Reckless engine room, Leie had darkened Maia's skin and hair, altering her appearance in a makeshift but effective way.
"This won't fool anyone for long," Leie had murmured, examining her handiwork. "Maia, be still! As I was saying, it's a lucky break your captain chose to flee right toward our base. No one'll have a chance to look at you closely before we dump off the first group of prisoners."
From Leie's remarks, Maia later gathered that the reaver base lay amid this very archipelago of devil-fang peaks. Apparently, the pirates planned to divide their captives, interning some on isolated isles. First to be marooned would be those least dangerous to the raiders' plans — Manitou's women crew members. While sorting through the wounded, Leie had managed to put Maia with that group.
