"What is this place?" the cabin boy asked, somewhat awestruck. "Ain't no Life arena. No playin' field. Did they pray here?"

Maia shook her head, puzzled. "Maybe, with all this scripture on the walls . . . though not all of these lines are holy text, I'm sure."

"Then what — ?"

"Hush now, please. Let me think."

The boy lapsed into silence, while Maia's brow knotted in concentration.

Renna escaped from here. That's the key piece of data. We can assume the reavers searched high and low for hidden doors and secret passages, so don't bother duplicating that effort. Instead, try to follow Renna's reasoning.

First, how did he know to get himself moved here? He went to great lengths to manage it.

Although Renna, like Maia, had been imprisoned in a sanctuary before, nothing in that earlier experience could have led him to anticipate a place like this. Maia herself would have found it hard to credit, had she not already seen the nearby, separate defense catacomb.

I've got to figure this out, and quicker than it took him. The reavers will be crazed when they find out what we've done.

Another pang increased her anxiety.

With every hand on war alert, they're sure to spot Brod when he tries coming down. They'll drop him like a helpless wing-hare.

Concentrating, Maia tried to view this room with unbiased eyes, to see what Renna must have seen. She spent a few minutes poking through the blankets and piled straw where he must have made his bed, long since torn apart by others searching for clues. Maia moved on, finding nothing else of interest until her gaze once more stroked the chiseled epigrams, running the length and breadth of each side and rear wall. Some she knew well, having learned them by heart during long, tedious hours spent in Lamatia Chapel, singing heavy paeans to Stratos Mother.

…. i©fin3 wHaT is HiDDen under strange

Which, transforming into normal letters, translated to … to find what is hidden . . . under strange, lost stars

Maia grimaced at the thought. It was an appropriate-enough image, as she might not live to ever again see stars. I wonder what time of day it is, she pondered idly while turning, scanning the walls. Then she stopped, resting her gaze on one anomalous patch. Despite her throbbing wounds, Maia hurried downstairs, then edged past the raised semicircular center stage. Where lines of incised symbols neared the unadorned forward wall, she had spotted what looked like orderly arrangements of brown smudges. They weren't writing. To Maia's eye they connoted something much more interesting.

"What does that look like to you?" she asked the cabin boy, pointing at a cluster of stains, just below one of the arcane symbols in the liturgical alphabet. The youth squinted, and Maia wished fervently that Brod were here, instead.

"Dunno, ma'am. Looks like a feller tossed his food. Same guk we been gettin', I reckon."

"Look closer," Maia urged. "Not tossed. Dabbed. See? Carefully painted dots — a cluster of them, under one syllabary letter. And here's another grouping." Maia counted. There were a total of eighteen little clusters of spots, none of them alike. "See? No letter is repeated. Each symbol in the alphabet has its own, unique associated cluster! Interesting?"

"Uh … if you say so, ma'am."

Maia shook her head. "I wonder how long it took him to figure it out."

She considered Renna's situation. Imprisoned for a second time on an alien world, bored half to death, despairing and exhausted, he must have stared at the riddle phrases till they blurred with the floating speckles underneath his drooping eyelids. Only then might it have occurred to him to play out a game, using the incised words as starting points. But first, they must be transformed from written letters into —

Sudden shouts floated in from the hallway. Maia turned, and seconds later a man appeared at the back of the arena, waving vigorously.

"Three o' the bitchies just strolled round the corner, right into our hands! The bad news is, they yelled 'fore we could get 'em gagged. There's a ruckus brewin' back at the stairs. Cap'n says there'll be trouble soon."

Maia acknowledged with a curt nod, and returned to contemplating the primitive markings on the wall. Renna must have used them as a reference cipher, while working in this room.

But working on what? He still had his electronic game board with him — which the reavers would have seen as no more than a toy — so he could have experimented with countless combinations of point-clusters and rules for manipulating them. All right, picture him fiddling around with the symbols in the room where he and the prisoners were first kept. Let's assume that from the wall writing he learned something. He learned that, somewhere else within the sanctuary, there was a better place to be … and he managed to wheedle himself into being taken to that place.

Okay, then what?

That still left the question of modality. An intellectual game was one thing. Moving through walls was another matter, entirely. Even the red-metal puzzle door, looming adamantly before Maia and Brod back in the sea-cave, had been an enigma with a clear purpose, a combination lock to open a gate. Scanning this room, she saw nothing like a gate. No way to leave, other than the one she had entered through. Nothing at all.

"Agh!" Maia cried, clenching her fists. Her left side and leg hurt and her head was starting to ache. Yet, somehow she must retrace mental steps taken by a technologically advanced alien, without even having access to the same tools he had possessed.

Groaning, she sat down on one of the benches in the first row, and laid her head in her hands. Even when a savage boom of gunfire rattled the walls above, causing ancient dust to float in soft hazes, she did not lift her tired, salty eyes.

"I've got it so Poulandres understands, I think. For the time being he'll shoot to miss, one bullet at a time. That's kept 'em back so far. If it does come to a charge, I think he'll do what's needful."

Leie sat down next to Maia, about half a meter away. Her voice was hesitant, as if she felt uncertain of her welcome. Twice Leie started to speak, and Maia felt sure it would be about what had passed between them — about their long separation, and regret over the cavalier way Leie had treated their bond. No actual words emerged, yet the strangled effort alone conveyed enough to ease some of the tension. In her heart, Maia knew it was as much apology as she was likely to get. As much as she should demand.

"So," Leie resumed in a strained voice. "What'll it take to figure out what happened here?"

Maia exhaled heavily, at a loss where to start.

She began by summarizing the cipher key Renna had drawn upon the wall, how each cluster of dots probably represented an array of living figures on a Game of Life board. Or, more likely, a variant game, differing in its detailed ecology. Maia could perceive that each configuration dabbed on the wall might be self-sustaining given the right rule system, though it was hard to explain how she knew it.

While she told Leie about this, they were interrupted twice more by loud reports — single warning shots, fired to keep the reavers at bay. There were no cries of full-scale attack, so neither of them moved. Leie's rapt attention encouraged Maia to accelerate her story, rapidly skimming over the violence, tedium, and danger of the last few months, but revealing her astonishing discovery of a talent — one bearing on a strange, intellectual-artistic realm.

"Lysos!" Leie whispered when the essentials were out. "And I thought my time was strange! After I heard you were ashore at Grange Head, and had a safe job in Long Valley, I decided to stay awhile at sea with—" She stopped and shook her head. "But that can wait. Go on. Does this Life stuff help us figure how Renna got out of a sealed room with no exits?"