Between checks on her instruments, the Musseli driver told Maia and the others what she had heard yesterday, before coming to the rendezvous. There had indeed been fighting at the prison-sanctuary, the same night Maia and Renna saw aircraft cross the sky. Planetary Authority agents, using surprise to redress their small numbers, landed on the stony tower, seizing the erstwhile jail. Too late to do us much good, Maia thought sardonically. Except by distracting the Perkies. That could improve our chances a bit.
The next day, local militias had been called up throughout Long Valley. Matriarchs of the senior farming clans vowed "to defend local sovereignty and our sacred rights against meddling by federal authorities . . ." Accusations flew in both directions while neither side mentioned anything at all about the Visitor from the stars. In practical terms, there could still be plenty of trouble for the fugitive band, and no likelihood of more help from Caria City forces until they reached the sea.
To make matters worse, the population of the valley grew denser as they neared the coastal range. The locomotive streaked past hamlets and sleepy farming towns, then larger commercial centers and clusters of light manufacturing. Several times they had to slow to gingerly maneuver by heavy-laden hopper cars filled with wheat or yellow corn.
More often, the path seemed to open up like magic before them. At towns, they were nearly always waved on by stationmistresses who, Maia realized, must be part of the conspiracy. Bit by bit, the scope of this enterprise seemed to grow.
Are all the railroad clans involved? They're not Perkies, but I'd have thought they'd at best stay neutral. It's got to be pretty damn serious for a hard-nosed bunch like the Musseli to risk customer relations for a cause.
Maia pondered how, once again, she was probably missing the big picture. I used to think this was all about that drug which makes men summery in winter. But that's just one part of it … not as important as Renna, for instance.
Could it be that he's just one piece, too? Not a pawn like me, but no king, either. I could get killed without anyone ever taking the time to explain why.
Small surprise there. One advantage of a Lamatian education was that she and her sister hadn't been raised to expect fairness from the world. "Roll with the blow!" Savant Claire had shouted, hitting Maia over and over with a padded stick during what was supposed to have been varling "combat practice," a torture session that stretched on and on, until Maia finally learned to fall with the impact, not against it.
How I still hate you, Claire, Maia thought, remembering. But I'm starting to see your point.
The exodus across the plains had a syncopated cadence — long intervals of boredom punctuated by anxious, heart-stopping minutes passing through each town. Nevertheless, all seemed to be going well until just before noon. Then, at a town called Golden Cob, they were met by an unpleasant sight — a lowered customs gate, barring their path. In lieu of the Musseli station master, a squad of tall redheads waited on the platform, all armed and dressed in militia leathers, comparing the engine's markings with numbers on a clipboard. Maia and the vars ducked out of sight, but despite the engineer's complaints, the guards-women insisted on inspecting the loco. En masse, they grabbed the ladder frames and proceeded to climb aboard from both sides.
There followed a stretched moment as two groups of women stared at each other in jittery silence. One guard spotted Renna, opened her mouth to shout. . . .
A shrill ululation pealed from above. The lead redhead looked up — too late to duck the dull end of Baltha's crowbar, which caught her along the jaw. From the metal roof, where the lanky southern var had lain, Baltha threw herself upon the close-pressed mass of militia.
Instantly, a free-for-all burst in the close cabin confines. Women screamed and charged. There was no room for fancy action with trepp bills, so both sides forsook polished staves for flailing fists and makeshift cudgels.
At first, Maia and Renna stood frozen at the rear. For all her adventures, Maia's first battle rocked her back. Her stomach flipped and she heard her heart pounding over the din. Glancing up, she saw Renna's alien eyes widen impossibly. Sweat prickled and veins stood out. It wasn't fear she read, but trouble of another sort.
The melee surged toward them. One redhead slugged Thalia's friend, Kau, knocking the petite var down. When the militiawoman raised her foot to follow through, Renna cried out, "No!" He took a step, fists clenched. Suddenly it was Maia's turn to yell.
"Get back!" she screamed, diving between Renna and the guard, managing to fling them in opposite directions. A fist rebounded off her right temple, setting both ears ringing. Another blow struck between two ribs, and she retaliated, hitting something soft with an elbow. Ignoring lancing pain, thrashing in the tight press of struggling women, Maia succeeded at last in dragging the fallen Kau out of the fray.
"Take care of her," she shouted to Renna. "And don't fight! A man mustn't!"
While he absorbed that, Maia turned and dove back into the brawl. It was a torrid, grunting struggle, devoid of ritual or courtesy or elegance. Fortunately, it was easy to tell friend from foe, even in the stifling dimness. For one thing, the enemy had bathed today, and smelled much better than her comrades. It was a resentful comparison that lent her the strength to wrestle women much larger and stronger than herself.
Terrifying while in doubt, the battle grew exhilarating when she realized her side was winning. Maia helped pin one thrashing redhead so Thalia could truss her with loops of preknotted cord. Getting up, Maia saw Baltha holding two clonelings in necklocks, banging their heads together. No assistance needed there, so she hurried past to help a southern var who was preventing one last militiawoman from diving out the door.
With an opening clear, Kiel leapt like a dark blur from the slowly crawling train, and ran ahead to raise the customs gate just in time. Hands reached down to haul her in as the driver poured on amps.
At the outskirts of town, the victorious refugees slowed down long enough to dump the squad of bruised and bound redheads beside the tracks. Then the Musseli opened her throttle again. The engine whined, accelerating westward at high speed.
Maia and the others were too keyed up to relax, talking loudly and pacing until their hearts began to settle. The sole exception was Renna, whose demeanor remained icy-deliberate while performing first aid on various cuts, bruises, and one broken wrist. He was a soothing presence, so long as there was work to do. When that was done, however, he began shivering and broke into a sweat. Maia watched his fists clench as he walked stiffly to the open door by the engineer and rinsed his head in the rushing breeze.
"What's wrong?" Maia asked, coming alongside, watching his tendons tauten like bowstrings.
"I . . ." He shook his head. "I'd rather not say."
But Maia thought she understood. On other worlds, men used to do most of the fighting. Bloody, terrible fighting, by accounts. For all she knew, it was still like that, out there. During the battle, Maia had briefly read his eyes. Something had been evoked that he did not much like.
"I guess Lysos knew what she was talking about, sometimes," Maia said in a low voice.
Renna shot her a look under furrowed brows. Then, slowly, there spread across his face a smile. An ironic smile that this time conveyed respect, along with affection.
"Yeah," he answered. "I guess maybe now and then she did."
Fortunately, that was the last substantial town before the coastal range. Their engine had to decelerate to climb the steepening grade. But then, so would any pursuit sent after the commotion at Golden Cob. Watching Kiel and Baltha pore over a map, Maia saw they were more worried about what lay ahead. Looking over their shoulders, Maia guessed the Perkinites had one more chance to stop them, near a village named Overlook, where a narrow defile seemed perfect for a hastily organized roadblock.