Maia wondered. Was it something intrinsic to males, that made them sensitive to cues of wind and wave? Was that why no woman officer served on oceangoing ships? She had always assumed it was something genetic. But then, I thought men couldn't ride horses, till Renna did it, and men also sailed the sky in zep'lins, long ago, before they were banned.

Maybe it's just another self-fulfilling myth.

The point was moot. Even if a woman like her were as innately able, five was much too old to start learning sea craft. Just because you know how to sight stars, that doesn't qualify you to buck a thousand-year tradition. Besides, sailors would raise hell if a woman rose above bosun. There weren't many niches in Stratoin society that males could call their own. They would not willingly open this bastion to the overpowering female majority.

Listen to yourself. A minute ago you were modestly willing to settle for a quiet, comfortable life, like Naroin. Now you're grumbling 'cause they won't put officer's rings on your arms! Maia chuckled silently. More proof of bad upbringing. A Lamatia education leads to a Lamai-sized ego.

"Right. Now it's our turn."

At Renna's word, Maia looked over to the other side of the game board, where their opponents had finished laying down four rows. Even from limited experience, she saw it as a completely pedestrian pattern. Not that it mattered, given the strategy she and Renna had agreed upon. Maia returned her partner's smile of encouragement. Then they split up, he to start laying in the left corner, and she on the right.

Naroin had volunteered to carry prewound game pieces for Maia, deftly passing one over each time Maia lifted her hand. Maia paused frequently to consult the plan she and Renna had worked out. A sketch she kept rolled up to prevent peeking by spectators in the rigging.

Got to be careful not to miss a row or column, she reminded herself. This close, you risked losing that sense of overall structure which seemed to leap out of a game board when viewed whole. Just one piece, laid in the wrong place, often doomed a "living" design — as if a person's kidneys had been attached incorrectly from the start, or your cells produced a wrong-shaped protein. Maia chewed her lip nervously as she neared the middle, where her work would meet Renna's. On finishing, she could only wait, worrying a cuticle as he placed his final tokens on the board. At last, he straightened from his stoop, and stretched. Maia stood alongside as they checked.

The two portions meshed, and by rushing through the first turn, they had given their opponents little time to ponder. Sure enough, the two youths frowned, obviously perplexed by the sequence she and her partner had created.

Good! I feared my idea was obvious . . . one they taught boys their first year at sea.

That didn't mean it was going to work, only that she and Renna had surprise going for them. The cook and cabin boy seemed rattled as they commenced laying four more rows on their side. Naroin nudged Maia. With a smile, the petite bosun pointed to the quarterdeck, where last night the ship's officers had leaned on the rail, casually watching the amateurs' humiliation. Tonight, a similar crowd had gathered, but this time their expressions were hardly idle. A cluster of ensigns and midshipmen flipped the pages of tall, gilt-edged books, alternately pointing toward the game board and arguing. To the left, three older men seemed to need no reference volumes. The ship's navigator and doctor exchanged a mere glance and smile, while Captain Poulandres puffed his pipe, resting his elbows on the finely carved banister, showing no expression save a glitter in his eye.

The boys finished their turn and appeared taken aback when Maia and Renna did not linger, analyzing what they'd done, but immediately proceeded to create four more rows of their own. Maia found it easier to envision the patterns, this time. Still, she kept glancing at the sailor who lounged by the port rail, holding a timer.

When she and her partner checked their work again, Maia looked across the cargo hatch and had the satisfaction of seeing the cook clench his fists nervously. The cabin boy seemed agitated. Commencing their turn, the boys quickly botched one of their figures, eliciting laughter from men watching overhead. The captain cleared his throat sharply, warning against audience interference. Blushing, the boys fixed the error and hurried on. They had built an elaborate array of defenses, consisting of powerful, unsubtle figures intended to block or absorb any attack. Next, they would presumably start on offense.

At last, the two youths stood back and signaled that it was Maia's and Renna's turn. Renna motioned her forward. "No!" she whispered. "I can't. You do it." But Renna just smiled and winked. "It was your idea," he said.

With a sigh, swallowing a lump in her throat, Maia took a step forward and she spoke a single word.

"Pass."

There followed a stunned silence, punctuated by the sharp sound of a junior officer slapping his palm decisively onto an open book. His neighbor nodded, but down on deck confusion reigned. "What d'yer mean?" the cook asked, looking left and right for guidance. This broke the tension as other men abruptly laughed. For the first time, Maia felt sorry for her opponent. Even she had seen games in which one side or the other skipped a row, leaving every space blank. What she was doing here, skipping four rows at once — that was the daring part.

Patiently, Poulandres explained while Naroin and other volunteers helped spread one hundred and sixty tokens, all white face up. In moments the boys were told to proceed, which they did with much nervous fumbling, piecing together a formidable array of aggressive-looking artillery patterns. When they looked up at last, Maia stepped forward again and repeated, "Pass!"

Again, volunteers quickly spread four rows of white pieces, while the audience murmured. Even if our pattern won't function as planned, this was worth it. On the other side, the boys went back to work, perspiring for lack of a break. For her part, Maia was starting to shiver from inactivity. Looking aft, she saw several common seamen drift over to ask questions of an ensign who, pointing at the board, made motions with his hands and whispered, trying to explain.

So what we're attempting is in the books, after all. Probably part of game lore, but rarely seen, like fool's mate in Chess. Easy to counter, providing you know what to do.

Renna and I have to hope we're playing against fools.

It didn't matter in one sense. Maia was pleased simply to have stirred their calm complacency. Maybe now they'd lend her some of those gilt-edged books, instead of patronizingly assuming they'd make no sense to her.

The other side of the board filled with a crowd of gaudy, extravagant figures, many of which Maia now saw were excessive and mutually contradictory, lacking the elegance of a classic Life match. On their own side, meanwhile, eight rows of enigmatic black and white dots terminated in a broad expanse of simple white.

I can't wait to ask the name of our pattern. Maia hungered to consult those volumes. It's'simple enough in concept, even if it turns out flawed.

What she had realized this afternoon, in a flash of insight, was that the boundary was truly part of the game. By reflecting most patterns that struck it, the edge participated crucially.

So why not alter it?

Maia had first imagined simply creating a copy of the boundary, a little further up their side of the board, to screw up any carom shots attempted by their foes. But that wouldn't work. Inside the board, all persistent patterns had to be self-renewing. The boundary pattern wasn't a stable one. If re-created elsewhere, it quickly dissolved.

But what about creating a pattern that acted like a boundary part of the time, while turning transparent to most types of missiles and gliders much of the rest? One example of such a structure had popped into mind this afternoon. It would reflect simple gliders eight beats out of ten, and so long as the anchor points at both ends were left alone, it would keep renewing. Given what they had faced last night, their opponents clearly planned shooting a lot of stuff at them. Overkill, nearly all of which would now come right back in their faces! With luck, their opponents would wreak more havoc on themselves than on the resilient, simple pattern Renna and Maia had created.