She grinned, shoving his shoulder playfully. "I know, you're worried about getting fed." Maia was also supposed to snatch any food she came across. But Brod looked hurt by her joke, so she spoke more gently. "Seriously, dear friend, use your own judgment. If you feel strong enough to wait, I suggest holding out till tomorrow night, before dawn. Lower yourself and try to steal the dinghy that's tethered to the Manitou's stern. Head for Halsey. At least there—"
"Abandon you?" Brod objected. "I'll not do anything of the—"
"Sure you will. I've been in jail before; I'll manage. Besides, if they catch me sneaking around the sanctuary tonight, their guard'll be up for more of the same. The only way you can help is by trying something different. Tell your guild how Corsh was murdered. Surrounded by witnesses, and with an unbugged comm, you can call the cops and every member of the Lyso-damned Council. It's still risky, but any conspirators may think twice about pulling dirty stunts with the Pinnipeds around as bystanders."
"Mm. I guess it makes sense." He shook his head, scuffing gravel with his sandals. "I still wish . . . Just be careful, okay?"
Maia threw her arms around him.
"Yeah, I will." She squeezed, feeling him tense briefly in typical winter withdrawal, then relax and return her embrace with genuine intensity. Maia looked into his face, briefly glimpsing moistness in his eyes as Brod released and turned away without another word. She watched him cross the broad terrace and then disappear beyond the stone steps. It would take several minutes, as they had rehearsed, for her partner to reach the winch house. Meanwhile, she went to the edge of the plateau and pulled the line taut, bracing her feet and backing up until most of her weight hung over the precipice.
I should be terrified, but I'm not.
Maia seemed to have progressively lost her fear of heights, until all that remained was a pulse-augmenting exhilaration. Funny, since Lamais are all acrophobes. Maybe it was growing up in that attic. Or perhaps I take after my father . . . whoever the vrilly bastard was. Despite Brod's revelations, a name was still all she had of him. "Clevin." No image formed in her mind, though someone midway in appearance between Renna and old Bennett might do.
Always alert for possible niches, Maia wondered if this calmness at the edge of a cliff might hint a useful talent. I must talk it over with Leie when I get a chance, she vowed. Maybe I'll put her in a cage, suspended from a great height, to see if it's genetic, or simply the result of environmental influences I've been through, since we parted.
Of course, Maia would do no such thing. But the fantasy discharged some tension over the possibility of encountering her twin again. At Maia's waistband she felt the pressure of a wooden cudgel she had made from the leg of a broken placard easel. If necessary, she would use it even on her sister. The tiny scissors, bound in cloth, finished Maia's short inventory of weapons.
It had better not come to a fight, she reminded herself. Stealth was her only real chance.
A sudden vibration transmitted down the cable, starting her teeth chattering. Maia set her jaw and braced. At a count of five, cable started unreeling at a slow, steady pace. Maia overcame a momentary instinctual pang, allowing her weight to sink with the makeshift saddle. Her feet began walking backward, first over the edge, then in jouncing steps along the sheer face of the cliff. The plateau rose past her eyes, cutting off the faint, distant glimmer of the elevator shed.
All that remained of the sky was what Jellicoe chose to let within its ragged circle — a cookie-cutter outline that narrowed with each passing moment. Only a wedge of reflected moonlight colored silver the tips of the highest western monoliths. Maia dropped into starlit gloom.
Despite the darkness, she listened for any sign she'd been spotted. Her wrapped hands were ready to jerk hard at the cable, signaling Brod to throw the mechanism into reverse. Neither of them felt certain the crude signals would work, once a great length of cord had played out. Not that it made that much difference. Forward lay all their hopes. Behind lay only starvation.
As her eyes adapted during the descent, Maia surveyed her surroundings. The lagoon was larger than it first appeared, since several small bays extended past partial gaps in the first circle of soaring spires. The wharf and ships lay some distance south and east, near the harbor entrance she and Brod had glimpsed while desperately evading the pirates' shelling. The pier led to a shelf of rock that rimmed part of the island's inner circumference at sea level. Bobbing lanterns could still be seen hurrying to and fro, mostly destined for the large stone portal lit on both sides by bright sconces. Interior illumination glowed through other openings, flanking the main entrance.
