Brod shrugged. "I don't think the few remaining Yeowns would risk trouble, making political statements. They have enough problems nowadays. With the rate of summer births going up all over Stratos, making everybody so nervous, Perkinites are always looking for var-loving scapegoats.
"But y'know, I was thinking about the people who once dwelled here in the Dragons' Teeth. Maybe they started out as Yeowh followers, back at the time of the Defense.
"Think about it, Maia. I'll bet these sanctuaries weren't originally just for men. Imagine the technology they must've had! Men couldn't keep that up all by themselves. Nor could they have ever managed to beat the Enemy alone. I'm sure there were women living here, year-round, alongside the men. Somehow, they must've known a secret for managing that."
Maia was unconvinced. "If so, it didn't last. After the Defense, there came the Kings."
"Yeah," he admitted. "Later it corrupted into a fit of patriarchism. But everything was in chaos after the war. One brief aberration, no matter how scary, can't excuse the Council for burying the history of this place! For centuries or more, men and women must've worked together here, back when it was one of the most important sites on Stratos."
The temptation to argue was strong, but Maia refrained from pouring water on her friend's enthusiastic theory. Renna had taught her to look back through a thick glass, one or two thousand years, and she knew how tricky that lens could be. Perhaps, with access to the Great Library in Caria, Brod's speculation might lead to something. Right now, though, the poor fellow seemed obsessed with scenarios, based more on hope than on data, in which females and males somehow stayed together. Did he picture some ancient paradise amid these jagged isles, in that heady time before the Kings' conceit toppled before the Great Clans? It seemed a waste of mental energy.
Maia felt overwhelming drowsiness climb her weary arms and legs. When Brod started to speak again, she patted his hand. "That's 'nuff for now, okay? Let's talk later. See you in the mornin', friend."
The young man paused, then put his arm around her as she lowered her head once more. "Yeah. Good rest, Maia."
"Mm."
This time it proved easy to doze off, and she did sleep well, for a while.
Then more dreams encroached. A mental image of the nearby, blood-bronze metal wall shimmered in ghostly overlay, superimposing upon the much-smaller, stony puzzle under Lamatia Hold. Totally different emblems and mechanisms, yet a voice within her suggested, True elegance is simplicity.
Still more vivid illusions followed. From those Port Sanger catacombs, her spirit seemed to rise through rocky layers, past the Lamai kitchens, through great halls and bedrooms, all the way up to lofty battlements where, within one corner tower, the clan kept its fine old telescope. Like the wall of hexagons, it was an implement of burnished metal, whose oiled bearings seemed nearly as smooth in action as the flowing plates. Overhead in Maia's dream lay a vast universe of stars. A realm of clean physics and honest geometries. A hopeful terrain, to be learned by heart.
Bennett's large hand lay upon her little one. A warm, comforting presence, guiding her, helping Maia dial in the main guide stars, iridescent nebulae, the winking navigation satellites.
Suddenly it was a year later . . . and there it was. In the logic of dreams, it had to show. Crossing the sky like a bright planet, but no planet, it moved of volition all its own, settling into orbit after coming from afar. A new star. A ship, erected for traveling to stars.
Thrilled at this new sight, wishing for someone to share it with, this older Maia went to fetch her aged friend, guiding his frail steps upstairs, toward the gleaming brass instrument. Now dim and slow, the coot took some time to comprehend this anomaly in the heavens. Then, to her dismay, his grizzled head rocked back, crying into the nigh —
Maia sat bolt upright, her heart racing from hormonal alarm. Brod snored nearby, on the cold stone floor. Dawn light crept through crevices in the rubble wall. Yet she stared straight ahead for many heartbeats, unseeing, willing herself to calm without forgetting.
Finally, Maia closed her eyes.
Knowing at last why they had sounded so familiar, she breathed aloud two words.
"Jellicoe Beacon . . ."
A shared context. She had been so sure it would turn out to be simple. Something passed on from master to apprentice over generations, even given the notoriously poor continuity within the world of men. What she had never imagined was that luck would play a role in it!
Oh, surely there was a chance she and Brod would have figured it out by themselves, before they starved. But Coot Bennett had spoken those words, babbling out of some emotion-fraught store of ragged memory, the last time she heard him speak at all. And the phrases had lain in her subconscious ever since.
