«No trouble.» Eason put his flight bag down, and relieved her of the old man. He slung the old man's arm around his own shoulders, and pushed up. It was quite a weight to carry, the girl must be stronger than she looked.
«This way,» she said, squirming with agitation.
«Take my flight bag, would you. And the name's Eason,» he told her as they started off down the wall.
«Althaea.» She blushed as she picked up his bag. «Shall I take your case for you as well?»
«No,» he grunted. «I'll manage.»
«I'm really grateful. I should have been back at the Orphée a quarter of an hour ago.»
«Is it a tight schedule?»
«Oh no, but Mother likes to get home before dark. Visiting Kariwak takes a whole day for us.»
«Should he be sailing in this condition?»
«He'll just have to,» she said with a sudden flash of pique. «He does it every time we bring him. And it's always me who has to go looking in the taverns for him. I hate those places.»
«Is this your father?»
She let out a guffaw, then clamped her mouth over her mouth. «I'm sorry. No, he's not my father. This is Rousseau. Ross. He lives with us, helps around the house and garden, things like that. When he's sober,» she added tartly.
«Where do you live?»
«Mother and I live on Charmaine; it's an island out in the archipelago.»
He hid a smile. Perfect. «Must be a tough life, all by yourselves.»
«We manage. It won't be for ever, though.» Her angular shoulders jerked in what he thought was supposed to be an apologetic shrug; it was more like a convulsion. Eason couldn't recall meeting someone this shy for a long while. It made her appealing, after an odd sort of fashion.
The Orphée was tied up to a quay near the gap in the harbour wall. Eason whistled in appreciation when he saw her. She was a trim little craft, six metres long, with a flat-bottomed wooden hull and a compact cabin at the prow. The two outriggers were smaller versions of the main hull, with room for cargo; all archipelago craft had them, a lot of the channels between islands were too shallow for keel fins.
Bitek units were dovetailed neatly into the wooden superstructure: nutrient-fluid sacs with ancillary organs in the stern compartment, a powerful-looking three metre long silver-grey serpent tail instead of a rudder, and a membrane sail whorled round the tall mast.
Althaea's mother was sitting cross-legged on the cabin roof, wearing a faded blue denim shirt and white shorts. Eason had no doubt she was Althaea's mother: her hair was much shorter, but the same colour, and though she lacked the girl's half-starved appearance her delicate features were identical. Their closeness was uncanny.
She was holding up an odd-looking pendulum, a slim gold chain that was fastened to the centre of a wooden disc, five centimetres in diameter. The disk must have been perfectly balanced, because it remained horizontal.
When Eason reached the quayside directly above the Orphée he saw the rim of the disc was carved with spidery hieroglyphics. It was turning slowly. Or he thought it was. When he steadied Ross and looked down properly, it was stationary.
The woman seemed absorbed by it.
«Mother?» Althaea said uncertainly.
Her gaze lifted from the disk, and met Eason's eyes. She didn't seem at all put out by his appearance.
He found it hard to break her stare; it was almost triumphant.
Rousseau vomited on the quay.
Althaea let out a despairing groan. «Oh, Ross!» She was close to tears.
«Bring him on board,» her mother said wearily. She slipped the disc and chain into her shirt pocket.
With Althaea's help, Eason manhandled Ross onto a bunk in the cabin. The old man groaned as he was laid on the grey blankets, then closed his eyes, asleep at once.
Althaea put a plastic bucket on the floor beside the bunk, and shook her head sadly.
«What's the pendulum for?» Eason asked quietly. He could hear her mother moving round on the deck outside.
«Mother uses it for divining.»
«On a boat?»
She pressed her lips together. «You can use divining to find whatever you wish, not just water—stones, wood, buried treasure, stuff like that. It can even guide you home in the fog, just like a compass. The disc is only a focus for your thoughts, that's all. Your mind does the actual work.»
«I think I'll stick with an inertial guido.»
Althaea's humour evaporated. She hung her head as if she'd been scolded.
«I'm Tiarella Rosa, Althaea's mother,» the woman said after Eason stepped out of the cabin. She stuck her hand out. «Thank you for helping with Ross.»
«No trouble,» Eason said affably. Tiarella Rosa had a firm grip, her hand calloused from deckwork.
«I was wondering,» he said. «Do you have any work available on Charmaine? I'm not fussy, or proud. I can dig ditches, pick fruit, rig nets, whatever.»
Tiarella's eyes swept over him, taking in the ship's jumpsuit he wore, the thin-soled shoes, his compact but hardly bulky frame, albino-pale skin. «Why would you be interested, asteroid man?»
«I'm a drifter. I'm tired of asteroid biosphere chambers. I want the real thing, the real outdoors. And I'm just about broke.»
«A drifter?»
«Yeah.» Out of the corner of his eye he saw Althaea emerge from the cabin, her already anxious expression even more apprehensive.
«I can only offer room and board,» Tiarella said. «In case you haven't noticed, we're not rich, either.» There was the intimation of amusement in her voice.
Eason prevented his glance from slipping round the Orphée ; she must have cost ten thousand fuseodollars at least.
«And the Orphée has been in the family for thirty years,» Tiarella said briskly. «She's a working boat, the only link we have with the outside world.»
«Right. Room and board would be fine.»
Tiarella ruffled Althaea's hair. «No need to ask your opinion, is there, darling. A new face at Charmaine, Christmas come in April.»