Maia had been half-teasing him with the honorific all day. Grinning, Brod responded with a grossly exaggerated accent. "Thet well bee doin', Madam Owner. If yell be so kinned as te lend a help wit'de sail."
"Aye, sir!" Maia took the taut, straining boom in one hand, setting a foot at the kick-strap. "Ready!"
"Coming about!" Brod swung the tiller, propelling the skiff's bow sharply toward the wind. The sail fluffed and flapped, signaling Maia to haul the boom around from port to starboard, where the sail snapped full with an audible crack, sending them rushing on a new heading, surging up the long shadow of a tall island to the west. The late sun lit a luminous aureole of water vapor, a pinkish halo, turning the rocky prominence into a fiery spear aimed beyond the clouds.
"Assuming we find shelter in the lagoon at Jellicoe," Brod said. "We'll resume southward at dawn. Around midafternoon tomorrow, we can strike east, hitting the main channel near Halsey Beacon."
"The active sanctuary. Tell me about the place," Maia asked.
"It's the one citadel still operating in the Dragons' Teeth, sanctioned by the Reigning Council to keep order. My guild drew short lot to staff the lighthouse, so they sent two ships and crews they could most easily spare — meaning dregs like me. Still, I never expected the captain'd try picking up extra cash by hiring out to reavers." He frowned unhappily. "Not every fellow feels that way. Some like watching women fight. Gives 'em a summery hot, they say."
"Couldn't you get a transfer, or something?"
"You kidding? Middies don't question captains, even when a cap'n is breaking an unwritten guild tradition. Anyway, reaving's legal, within limits. By the time I realized Captain Corsh was selling out to real pirates, it was too late." Brod shook his head. "I must've shown how I felt, 'cause he was glad enough to offer me as hostage, while out loud yelling to the reavers what a great loss I was, and they'd better take good care of me!" The boy laughed harshly.
We're alike, poor fellow, Maia thought. Is it my fault I don't have any talents right for the world of women? Or his, that he's a boy who was never meant to be a sailor? Her bitter reflection was unalloyedly rebellious. Maybe it's just wrong to make generalizations like that, without leaving room for exceptions. Shouldn't each of us have the right to try what we're best at?
They were also alike in both having been abandoned by people they trusted. Yet he was more vulnerable. Boys expected to be adopted by a guild that would be their home from then on, while girl summerlings grew up knowing exactly what they were in for — a life of lonely struggle.
"We'd better be careful, then, when we reach Halsey. Your captain may not—"
"Be happy to see me?" Brod interrupted. "Hmph. I was within my rights, escaping with you and the others. Especially after Inanna and her murdering schemes. But you're right. I don't guess Corsh will see it that way. He's probably already worried how he's going to explain all this to the commodores.
"So we'll try getting there near nightfall, tomorrow. I know a channel into the harbor. One that's too shallow for ships, but just right for us. It leads to an out-of-the-way dock. From there, maybe we can sneak into the navigator's suite and look at his charts. I'm sure he's written down where the reaver hideout is. Where they're keeping your starman."
There was a slight edge to Brod's voice, as if he felt dubious about something. Their chances of success? Or the very idea of consorting with aliens?
"If only Renna were being held right there, at Halsey." She sighed.
"Doubtful. The reavers wouldn't leave a male prisoner where he could talk to other men. They have too much riding on their plans for him."
On Grimke, Brod had told Maia about the Visitor's actions, just after Manitou was seized. By Brod's account, Renna had stomped among the jubilant victors, protesting every violation of Stratoin law. He defiantly refused to move over to the Reckless until all of the wounded were tended. So stern had been his otherworldly countenance, his anger and clench-fisted restraint, that Baltha and the other reavers had backed down rather than be forced to hurt him. Brod never mentioned Renna paying special notice to one victim in particular, but Maia liked to imagine her alien friend's strong, gentle hands soothing her delirium, and his voice, speaking in low tones, promising her firmly that they would meet again.
Brod had little more to say about Leie. He had noticed Maia's sister among the reaver band, notable mainly for her eager eyes and intense interest in machines. The motor-room chief had been glad to have her, and hadn't given a damn what gender a soot-stained crewmate carried under shirt and loincloth, so long as he or she worked hard.
