at an open-air café. The men didn’t look like sailors, while the women had a massaged, billowy appearance Maia associated with pleasure clans, specializing in relieving the tensions of others in houses of ease. Several such houses lined the square, positioned to serve clients coming from the harbor in summer, and uptown in winter. Above each entrance, gaily painted signs depicted a leaping rabbit, a snowflake, a grinning bullclutching a bell between its jaws. Servants labored on the house overlooking the café, changing the decorations from warm, aurora shades to those of frost.
In autumn, the two clienteles of such places overlapped like incoming and ebbing waves, which explained the mixed group at the veranda café. Maia wondered what the men and women found to talk about.
Was Naroin’s surveillance also out of curiosity?
Unlikely. Especially when Maia noticed among the loungers a man in a floppy hat. “So that’s the guy?” Leie asked. “I don’t know what he did to Lem and Eth, but those boys sure got in trouble. Think your bosun’s gonna pick a fight? The fop’s got twice her mass.”
Whatever the reason or season, Maia wouldn’t bet against the petite sailor. “
Don’t ask me
,” the Naroin had said. Or,
Keep your nose out of this.
Despite the power of her own inquisitiveness, almost hormonally intense, Maia decided to quash it. At her station in life, wisdom dictated keeping a low profile.
And yet …
An abrupt clattering broke out to their left. The bell tower overlooking the piazza emitted a loud
thunk
, and beaten copper doors, green with verdigris, rattled open. Soon the famous clock figures of Lanargh would emerge to start their stately dance—five minutes of choreographed automation, finishing with the tolling of Three-Quarters Day. Crowds began moving up to watch the sublime, hundred-year-old gift from Gollancz Sanctuary perform its evening ritual, timed to satellite pulses from Caria University, halfway around the world.
Maia hadn’t realized it was so late. The program she wanted to watch would be on soon. “Come on,” she urged. “Or we’ll miss the news.”
Leie shook her head. “There’s lots of time. I want to see the first part again. We’ll go after that, I promise.”
Maia sighed, knowing by instinct when Leie’s tenacitycould be fought, and when it was futile. Fortunately, they had a good view as the clock-tower doors finished opening with a reverberating clang. Then, first out its portal, emerged the bronze figure of the He-Ape, knuckle-walking above the onlookers, carrying a twitching four-legged animal under one arm and a sharpened stone in its mouth. The ape turned three times to a ratcheting beat, appearing to scrutinize those below. Then the figure rose up on its hind legs, miraculously unfolding into the erect figure of a man, now carrying loops of chain. The stone in his mouth had transformed into the stylized phallic protuberance of The Bomb.
Leie’s eyes gleamed with appreciation, the intricate play of bronze plates seemed so smooth and natural. It was a renowned rendition of one of the most famous allegorical tales on Stratos—a metaphor for one side of evolution.
Another door parted. The figure of a She-Ape emerged, carrying her traditional bundle of fruit.
Same as last time, and the time before
, Maia thought.
It’s cute, but monotonous.
She took a moment to glance back toward the café … and started in surprise. Only moments had passed, but now empty bottles lay where the lounging customers had sat. Naroin, too, had vanished.
Oh, well.
She shook her head.
None of my business. Besides, it’s time to head uptown.
Maia tugged her sister’s arm. Leie tried to shrug her off, entranced by the swiveling dance of metal figures. But now Maia insisted. “We’ve seen this part twice already! I don’t want to miss the broadcast again.”
Leie sighed dramatically, and Maia thought,
I wish for once she wouldn’t milk it, every time I want something,
In autumn, the two clienteles of such places overlapped like incoming and ebbing waves, which explained the mixed group at the veranda café. Maia wondered what the men and women found to talk about.
Was Naroin’s surveillance also out of curiosity?
Unlikely. Especially when Maia noticed among the loungers a man in a floppy hat. “So that’s the guy?” Leie asked. “I don’t know what he did to Lem and Eth, but those boys sure got in trouble. Think your bosun’s gonna pick a fight? The fop’s got twice her mass.”
Whatever the reason or season, Maia wouldn’t bet against the petite sailor. “
Don’t ask me
,” the Naroin had said. Or,
Keep your nose out of this.
Despite the power of her own inquisitiveness, almost hormonally intense, Maia decided to quash it. At her station in life, wisdom dictated keeping a low profile.
And yet …
An abrupt clattering broke out to their left. The bell tower overlooking the piazza emitted a loud
thunk
, and beaten copper doors, green with verdigris, rattled open. Soon the famous clock figures of Lanargh would emerge to start their stately dance—five minutes of choreographed automation, finishing with the tolling of Three-Quarters Day. Crowds began moving up to watch the sublime, hundred-year-old gift from Gollancz Sanctuary perform its evening ritual, timed to satellite pulses from Caria University, halfway around the world.
Maia hadn’t realized it was so late. The program she wanted to watch would be on soon. “Come on,” she urged. “Or we’ll miss the news.”
Leie shook her head. “There’s lots of time. I want to see the first part again. We’ll go after that, I promise.”
Maia sighed, knowing by instinct when Leie’s tenacitycould be fought, and when it was futile. Fortunately, they had a good view as the clock-tower doors finished opening with a reverberating clang. Then, first out its portal, emerged the bronze figure of the He-Ape, knuckle-walking above the onlookers, carrying a twitching four-legged animal under one arm and a sharpened stone in its mouth. The ape turned three times to a ratcheting beat, appearing to scrutinize those below. Then the figure rose up on its hind legs, miraculously unfolding into the erect figure of a man, now carrying loops of chain. The stone in his mouth had transformed into the stylized phallic protuberance of The Bomb.
Leie’s eyes gleamed with appreciation, the intricate play of bronze plates seemed so smooth and natural. It was a renowned rendition of one of the most famous allegorical tales on Stratos—a metaphor for one side of evolution.
Another door parted. The figure of a She-Ape emerged, carrying her traditional bundle of fruit.
Same as last time, and the time before
, Maia thought.
It’s cute, but monotonous.
She took a moment to glance back toward the café … and started in surprise. Only moments had passed, but now empty bottles lay where the lounging customers had sat. Naroin, too, had vanished.
Oh, well.
She shook her head.
None of my business. Besides, it’s time to head uptown.
Maia tugged her sister’s arm. Leie tried to shrug her off, entranced by the swiveling dance of metal figures. But now Maia insisted. “We’ve seen this part twice already! I don’t want to miss the broadcast again.”
Leie sighed dramatically, and Maia thought,
I wish for once she wouldn’t milk it, every time I want something,
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