"We only spoke privately once," Brod said, shielding his eyes as they sailed toward the late afternoon sun. He adjusted the tiller to a change in the wind, and Maia reacted by tightening the sail. "I guess she chose me since no one would care if I laughed at her."
"What did she want to talk about?"
Brod frowned, trying to remember. "She asked if I had ever met an old commodore or captain, back at my guild's main sanctuary in Joannaborg. One named Kevin? Calvin?"
Maia sat up quickly. "Do you mean Clevin?"
He tapped the side of his head absentmindedly. "Yeah, that's right. I told her I'd heard the name. But they shipped me out so quickly after adoption, and so many crews were still at sea that I'd never actually met him. The shipname, Sea Lion, was one of ours, though."
Maia stared at the boy. "Your guild. It's the Pinnipeds."
She stated it as fact, and Brod shrugged. "Of course, you wouldn't know. We lowered our ensign before the fight. Pretty shameful. I knew right then things were no good."
Maia sank back down, listening through a roil of conflicting emotions — astonishment topping the list.
"Starkland Clan has known the Pinnipeds for generations. The mothers say it was once a great guild. Shipped fine cargoes, and its officers were welcome in High Town, winter and summer both. These days, the commodores take jobs like staffing Halsey Beacon, and now even hiring out to reavers." He laughed bitterly. "Not a great billet, eh? But then, I'm no prize, either."
Maia examined Brod with renewed interest. From what the boy said, he might be her distant cousin, several times removed . . . only a temple gene-scan could tell for sure. It was a concept Maia had to struggle with, along with the irony that here, after so many frantic adventures, she had finally made contact with her father-guild. The manner wasn't at all as she'd imagined.
They sailed on quietly, each of them deep in private thought. At one point, a swarm of sleek, dark shapes cruised into view, some meters below their tiny vessel, undulating silently with sinuous power and speed. The largest of the creatures would have outmassed the Manitou, and took several minutes to progress, yet its smooth passage scarcely caused a ripple above as the skiff passed at an angle. Maia barely glimpsed the monster's tail, then the mysterious underwater convoy was gone.
A few minutes later, Brod shifted forward in his seat, staring as he shaded his eyes with one hand, his body abruptly tense. "What is it?" Maia asked.
"I'm . . . not sure. I thought for a second something crossed the sun." He shook his head. "It's getting late. How close to Jellicoe?"
"We'll be in sight after that next little spire, ahead." Maia unfurled the chart. "It seems to consist of about two dozen teeth, all fused together. There are two anchorages, with some major caves noted here." She looked up and gauged the rate of sunset. "It'll be close, but we should have time to scout a channel before dark."
The young man nodded, still frowning in concern. "Get ready to come about, then."
The maneuver went smoothly, the wind snapping their rugged sail into line as it had all day. Maybe our luck really has changed, Maia thought, knowing full well that she was tempting fate. Once they were cruising steady on the new tack, she spoke again, bringing up another imminent concern.
"Naroin made me promise to try calling her superiors, in case we find a radio at Halsey."
It wasn't a vow she relished. Maia personally trusted Naroin, but her superiors? So many groups want Renna for their own reasons. He has enemies on the Council. And even supposing honest cops answer a call, will the reavers let Renna be taken alive?
One disturbing thought after another had occurred to her. What if the Council still has weapons like those that burned Grimke? What if they conclude a dead alien is better than one in the hands of their foes?
Brod's answer sounded as halfhearted as Maia felt. "We could try for the comm room, I suppose. It might be unwatched late at night. The idea gives me a pain in the gut, though."
"I know. It'd be awfully risky, combined with burgling the chart room—"
"That's not it," Brod cut in. "I'd just . . . rather someone else called the cops on my guild."
Maia looked at him. "Loyalty? After the way they treated you?"
"That's not it," he said, shaking his head. "I won't stay with 'em after this."
"Well, then? You're already helping me go after Renna."
"You don't understand. Another guild might respect me for helping you save a friend. But who's gonna hire a man who's squealed on his own crewmates?"
"Oh." Maia hadn't realized the added risk Brod was taking. Beyond life and freedom, he could lose all chance of a career. Something I never had, Maia almost murmured, but recanted. It takes courage for a person with prospects to gamble them on a hazard of honor.
