The skiff began rounding the nearest headland. Beyond, just as Maia had predicted, a large, convoluted island hove gradually into view. To Maia, it looked as if a great claw had frozen in place while reaching out of the sea. Some mysterious geological process had welded the fingerlike talons, joining multiple slender spires in a mesh of stony arches.
Jellicoe Island had been even bigger, once upon a time. Stubby, fused remnants showed where a more extensive network of outlying islets had been blasted apart by an ancient power, presumably the same as excavated Grimke. Linear tracks of seared stone glistened like healed scar tissue across the jutting cliffs, adding contortions to the convoluted outlines ordained by nature. The resulting coastline had the horizontal contours of a twisted, many-pointed star, with rounded nubs instead of vertices and edges. Irregular openings broke the rhythmic outline.
A few minutes later, one of those gaps let Maia glimpse a lagoon within, as placid as glass.
"There it is!" she announced. "Perfect. We can sail right through and set anchor—"
"Shiva an' Zeus!" Brod cursed. "Maia, get down!"
She barely ducked in time as Brod steered hard, sending the boom flying across the little boat, whistling where Maia's head had been.
"What're you doing?" she cried. But the young man did not answer. Gripping the tiller, his hands were white with tension, eyes all concentration. Lifting her head to see, Maia gasped. "It's the Reckless!"
The three-masted, fore-and-aft schooner bore toward them from the southwest, almost directly out of the setting sun. The sight of its gravid sails, straining to increase a speedy clip, was breathless and dreadful to behold. While Maia and Brod had been wrestling their tiny vessel on a series of sunward, upwind tacks, the reaver ship had already crossed most of the space between two islands.
"Do you think she's seen us?" Maia felt inane for asking. Yet, Brod was clearly counting on that hope, trying to duck back behind the spire they had just passed. If only the reavers had lazy lookouts. . . .
Hope vanished with the sound of a whistle — a shriek of steam and predatory delight. Squinting against the glare, Maia saw a crowd of silhouettes gather at the bow, pointing. The image might have triggered deja vu, bringing back how the day began, except that this was no little ketch, but a freighter, augmented for speed and deadliness. Smoke trails told of boilers firing up. Maia's nose twitched at the scent of burning coal. She did a quick calculation in her mind.
"It's no good running!" she told Brod. "They've got speed, guns, maybe radar. Even if we get away, they'll search all night, and we'll smash up in the dark!"
"I'm open to suggestions!" her partner snapped. Perspiration beaded his lip and brow.
Maia grabbed his arm. "Swing back westward! We can tack closer to the wind. Reckless will have to reef sails to follow. Her engines may still be cold. With luck, we can dodge into that maze." She pointed at the corrugated coastline of Jellicoe Island.
Brod hesitated, then nodded. "At least it'll surprise 'em. You ready?"
Maia braced herself and grabbed the boom, preparing to kick. "Ready, Captain!"
He grimaced at the standing joke. Maia quashed rebellion in her stomach, where the bilious, familiar commotion of fear and adrenaline had come back, as if to a favorite haunt.
So much for that string of luck, she thought. I should have known better.
"All right," Brod said with a ragged sigh, clearly sharing the thought. "Here goes."
Everything depended on nearest passage. How tight could the bigger vessel turn? What weapons would be brought to bear?
As expected, the diminutive skiff was far better at drawing a close tack. The Reckless hesitated too long after Brod changed course. When the reaver ship came about at last, it fell short and wound up abeam to the breeze. Brod and Maia gained westward momentum, while seamen struggled aloft, lashing sails so the still-warming engines would not have to fight them pushing upwind. The rest of the reaver crew watched from the railings. Do they recognize the skiff? Maia wondered. By now surely they know something's happened to Inanna and their friends on the ketch. Lysos, they look angry!
Even with the big ship wallowing, there would come a moment when the two vessels passed by no more than a couple of hundred meters. What would the pirates do about it?
