His longing expression, followed by sheepish blushing, finished off one lingering doubt Maia had nursed — that Brod might just possibly be a spy, left here by the reavers to watch over the prisoners. She had grown suspicious after all that had happened, the last few months. But no one could fake that sudden shift from wistfulness to embarrassment! His open thoughts seemed more like her own than old Bennett's had ever been. Or, when you got right down to it, most of the women she had known. He was much less romantically mysterious than her hearth-friend, the Earthling stranger, but that was okay, too.
You're turning into a real man-liker, Maia pondered, patting Brod on the back and turning to go back to work. Perkinites, who only use 'em for sex and sparking, just don't know what they're missing.
The raft had been prepared in four parts, to be linked quickly by hand as each was lowered at high tide. The vars practiced all the necessary movements over and over again, on a clearing by the converted winch. While it would doubtless be many times harder on bobbing seas, they finally felt ready. The first window for a launch would, come early the next morning.
There were reasons for haste. Provisions would run out in eight to ten days. A lighter from the reaver colony was due about then. Inanna and the others wanted to leave well before that.
And if the lighter never came? All the more reason to depart soon. Either way, they'd be hungry but not starved by the time they reached the Mediant Coast.
No one tried very hard to persuade Maia and Naroin to change their minds and come along. Someone ought to stay and put up a pretense, when and if the supply ship came, thus giving the raft crew more time to get away. "We'll send help," Inanna assured.
Maia had no intention of waiting around for the promise to be kept. Those left behind would set to work at once on Naroin's alternate plan. Maia had motives all her own. If a crude dinghy did get built, she would not sail with Naroin and Brod to Landing Continent, but ask to be dropped off along the way. It had to be possible to find out which neighboring island held Renna and the rads — the secret reaver base where Maia planned on snaring Leie, pinning her down, and getting a word in for a change.
The night before launching day, eighteen women and one boy sat up late around the fire, telling stories, joking, singing sea chanteys. The vars kidded young Brod about what a pity it was that glory had been so sparse, and was he sure he didn't want to come along, after all? Though relieved in a way, by the kindness of the weather, Brod also seemed ambivalently wistful at his narrow escape. Maia guessed with a smile that something within him had been curious and willing to take up the challenge, if it came.
Don't worry. A man as smart as you will get other chances, under better circumstances.
The mood of anticipation had everyone keyed up. Two of the younger sailors, a lithe, blonde sixer from Quinnland and an exotic-looking sevener from Hypatia, started banging spoons against their cups to a quick, celebratory rhythm, then launched a session of round-singing.
"C'mere C'mere . . . No! Go away!"
That's what we heard the ensign say.
"I know I promised to attack,
But I lost the knack,
Seems I just lost track,
Can I come back?
Is it spring, today?
C'mere, c'mere, c'mere, c'mere,
Oh, c'mere you . . . No, go away!"
It was a famous drinking song, and it hardly mattered that no one had anything to drink. The singers alternately leaned toward Brod, then shied off again, to his embarrassment and the amusement of everyone else. Taking turns one by one, going around the circle, each woman added another verse, more bawdy than the last. At her turn, Maia waved off with a smile. But when the round seemed about to skip past Brod, the young man leaped instead to his feet. Singing, his voice was strong, and did not crack.
"C'mon up … No, Stay away!"
The mothers of the clan do say.
"We really didn't mean to goad,
Or incommode,
We thought it snowed,
But it rained today.
C'mon, c'mon, c'mon, c'mon,
Oh, c'mon up … No, Stay away.'"
Most of the sailors laughed and clapped, nodding at the fairness of his comeback. A few seemed to resent his jumping in, however. The same ones who, days back, had argued against counting the vote of a mere boy.
More songs followed. After a lighthearted beginning, Maia noticed the mood grow steadily less gay, more somber and reflective. At one point, the girl from Hypatia looked down, letting her hair fall around her face as she chanted a soft, lovely melody, a cappella. An old, sad song about the loss of a longtime hearth-mate who had won a niche, started a clan, and then died, leaving clone-daughters who cared nothing of their var founder's callow loves.
"There is her face, I hear her voice, Images and sounds of youth gone by. She lives on, unknowing me. Immortal, while I'm bound to die."
