MY FAMILY MADE CLOCKS, BUT I

HAVEN'T SEEN THEM IN A WHILE

SEEM TO HAVE LOST TRACK OF TIME

Maia found it hard always to tell when Renna was joking or teasing, although clearly she never meant it in a mean way. Renna wasn't much more forthcoming about how she came to be a prisoner in this place.

THE SELLERS TOOK ADVANTAGE OF A LONELY TRAVELER

Bellers! The family Tizbe belonged to! The pleasure clan that did a profitable side business carrying goods and performing confidential services. So Maia and Renna had a common enemy! When she said as much, Renna agreed with what seemed reluctant sadness. Maia tried asking about "CY" and "GRVS," who must be Renna's clanmates or allies, but her fellow prisoner responded there were some things Maia was better off not knowing.

That did not prevent them from talking frequently about escape.

First they must work out their relative positions in the stone tower. Crawling into the stone casement, Maia craned her head around and saw a continuous row of slit windows like this one, presumably illuminating other storerooms, girdling the citadel's circumference five meters below the grand gallery of columned patios she had glimpsed on arrival, that first day. Comparing the positions of certain landmarks, they ascertained that Renna's window lay just around the bend, facing due east while Maia's looked southeastward. Turning in the opposite direction, Maia could just make out the gate-ramp of the unfinished sanctuary, forlorn and covered with prairie dust.

Maia was full of ideas. She told Renna of her experiments unraveling carpets, learning how to weave a rope. While approving her enthusiasm, Renna reminded Maia that the drop was much too far to trust a bundle of twine, amateurly wrapped by hand.

Looking at her handicraft, she was forced to admit Renna was probably right. Still, Maia continued spending part of each day unwinding lengths of tough fiber and retying them into a finger-width strand, trying to imitate by memory the weaving patterns used by sailors aboard the Wotan. It's something to keep busy, she thought. While Renna kept up her midnight attempts to radio for help, Maia wanted to contribute something, even as futile as winding string.

She was careful to hide all signs — of both ropemaking and talking to Renna — from her jailers. During meals, Maia told them how fascinated she was with the Game of Life, and how grateful to have been introduced to its world of intricacy. Their eyes glazed as she expected. All the Guels wanted was the comfort of routine. She happily let them have it.

So it came as a surprise when she heard the rattle of keys in the middle of one afternoon, hours before dinner-time. Maia barely managed to throw a rug over her work and stand up before the door swung open. On entering, the two Guel guards appeared tense, agitated. Maia saw why when a familiar figure stepped between them.

Tizbe Better! The former baggage-car assistant looked around the storeroom, hands folded behind her. An expression of faintly amused disgust crossed her young face as she perused the sweat-stained towel hanging by the cracked washbasin, and the covered chamber pot just beyond. Her nose wrinkled, as if meeting odors a coarse var could not be expected to notice.

Maia made herself stand tall. Go ahead and sneer, Tizbe. I've kept myself fit and civilized in here. Let's change places and see you do better!

Her defiance must have shown. Although Tizbe's amusement continued unabated, her expression did change. "Well, captivity doesn't seem to have hurt you, Maia. Not where it counts. You're positively blossoming."

"Go to Earth, Tizbe. Take your Jopland and Lerner friends with you."

The cloneling feigned a moue of shock. "Such language! Keep this up, and you'll be too rough for polite society."

Maia laughed curtly. "You can shove your polite—"

But Tizbe got the better of her again, simply by stifling a yawn and waving a hand vaguely in front of her. "Oh, not now, if you don't mind. It's been a hard ride and I have to leave bright and early. We'll see though. Before that, I might have a chance to drop in again and say goodbye."

Then, to Maia's shock, she turned to go. "But . . . aren't you here to—"

Tizbe looked back from the door. "To question you? Torture you? Ah, that would be just the thing for one of those trashy novels I'm told you've been reading. Villains are supposed to gloat and rub their hands together, and talk to their poor victims a lot.

"Sorry to disappoint you. I really would try to fit the role if I had the time. Honestly, though, do you have any information I could possibly want? What material benefit would I gain by questioning one more Venturist spy?"

Maia stared at her. "One more what?"

Tizbe reached into one of her sleeves and drew forth a tattered, folded sheet of heavy paper. After a moment, Maia recognized the leaflet she had accepted in Lanargh, from the hand of that earnest young heretic wearing eyeglasses. So, her captors had gone to Holly Lock and sifted through her things. She did not even bother acting offended.

"Venturist .. . . you think I'm one of them, because of that?"

Tizbe shrugged. "It did seem unlikely for a spy to carry around blatant evidence. Throw in your comm call from Jopland, though, and it's reason enough to take precautions. You've turned official eyes this way sooner than expected, for which you'll pay." She smiled. "Still, we have things well in hand. If it weren't for more urgent matters, I'd not bother coming all this way.

"As it is, I felt behooved to check on you, Maia. Glad to see you not all wrapped in self-pity, as I expected. Maybe, when everything's settled, we'll have a talk about your future. There may be a place for a var like you—"

Maia cut in. "With your gang of criminals? You . . ." She searched for phrases she had heard over Thalia's radio, at Lerner Hold. "Inheretist exploiters!"

Tizbe shook her head, grinning. "Showing our radical colors at last? Well, solitude and contemplation can change minds. I'll have some books sent to you. They'll show the sense in what we're doing. How it's good for Stratos and all womankind."

"Thanks," Maia replied sharply. "Don't bother including The Perkinite Way. I've read it."

"Oh yes?" Tizbe's eyebrows lifted. "And?"

Maia hoped her smile conveyed indulgent pity.

"I think Lysos would have liked to study sickies like you under a microscope, to see what she did wrong."

For the first time, the other woman's reaction wasn't another tailored mask. Tizbe glowered. "Enjoy your stay, var-child."

The guards followed her out, trying not to meet Maia's eyes as they closed the door, then fastened it with a hard, metallic clank of Lerner steel.

Tizbe didn't give a damn about me. I'm just an irritant, to be stored away and forgotten.

It was just one more blow to Maia's pride, confirming what she already knew about her insignificance in the world.

So it wasn't me that brought her all the way out here, but something "urgent."

Maia realized with sudden certainty — It's Renna!

The possibility of danger to her friend terrified Maia. She rushed to the wall, where the game board was already plugged in, but then made herself stop. The distance between their cells was not great. Tizbe could be at Renna's door by the time Maia tapped a warning, and if Tizbe heard the clicking, it would let on that the prisoners had a way of communicating. Maia imagined what life might be like, if she found herself cut off yet again. The gaping sense of threat and emptiness felt like when she had first come to realize that Leie was gone.

Sitting in front of the game board only enhanced Maia's feeling of impotence. She got up and climbed her pyramid of boxes to crawl into the window, where she poked her head beyond the rocky lip to peer toward the front gate. There Maia glimpsed several figures tending a string of tethered horses. The Beller's escorts, presumably.