"It's no good, grandma," she said, not unkindly. "Just do as I ask you and let's have no trouble, shall we? Come on, now; eggs, milk and fruit."
"There's no fruit," snapped the old woman, turning away.
"The garden's full of it," said Occula. "Ripe, too. Banzi, go out and pick some, will you?"
"No, she won't!" cried the old woman. "Think we let you little whores go wandering about outside just as you like? D'you know what 'slave' means, miss, eh?"
"You'd better go yourself, then," said Occula. "You used to be a whore-and a slave. I'm goin' to be a shearna- and in the upper city, too."
"D'you think I'm running your errands, miss?" screamed the old woman. "You'll eat what you're given or else go without, you black cow-"
In a flash Occula had snatched up the peeling-knife. At the same moment Megdon, entering the room, reached her in three strides, plucked it out of her hand and threw it into a corner.
"Easy now, Occula," said the slave-trader. "You're getting a lot too handy with knives, you know. What's the row?"
Occula stood impassively beside the table as the old woman began a shrill tirade of explanation and abuse. It was plain, however, that Megdon was only half-listening. At length, shrugging his shoulders, he said, "Well, if she wants some fruit you'd better go and get her some. I'll stay here with them till you come back."
The oldwoman seemed about to argue: then, muttering, she took up a basket and shuffled out of the room.
Megdon turned back to Occula, who had flung back her leather jacket and, her hands behind her on the table, was leaning backwards, her body arched from the hips. As he took a step towards her she said, "Do you want this little girl to watch? Is that what you like?"
"It would be easier to go upstairs, wouldn't it?" answered Megdon. "What are you charging this time, Occula? Too much, if I know anything about it."
"You bugger, I haven' charged you a meld yet," said Occula.
"Not money, no," replied Megdon, never taking his eyes off her. "But a slap-up dinner-and it was slap-up, Occula; you can't say it wasn't-and two bottles of Yeldashay at. the best place between here and Thettit. And that gold stud in your nose."
"Which you took off some other poor girl," said Occula. "You're lucky, you know. Six months from now and you woan' be able to get me for five times that. In fact, you woan' be able to get me at all, so you'd better make the most of it while you can."
"Well, for your own sake, I hope you're right, Occula," answered Megdon. "To tell you the truth, I wish we had to handle more girls like you: life would be a lot easier."
"There's no one like me. What's happened to that little bastard I sorted out last night?"
"Gone to Zalamea on a collecting job. Won't be back till tonight. There's only Perdan, and he's still asleep."
"All right; you want to know the price," said Oecula. "I'll tell you. You'll send us on to Hirdo today; me and this banzi here. And you'll fit her out with some decent clothes. And that's all: cheap, isn't it?"
"I can't do it, Oecula," answered Megdon. "I can give the girl a dress; three, if you like. That's easy enough. But I can't send you on to Hirdo today, because there's no one to take you."
"There's you."
"Genshed's bringing five girls on foot from Zalamea. They'll have done fourteen miles. I've no idea what they'll be like. You know how it is: some may be violent, some may even try to kill themselves. Me and Perdan have both got to be here. You'll go up to Hirdo tomorrow, on foot, with the rest of them. You're part of Lalloc's consignment, you see: I can't alter that. Sorry."
To Maia's surprise Oecula made no retort whatever, merely turning away and sitting down on the bench on the opposite side of the table. Megdon, coming round behind her, fondled her shoulders and then, bending his head, murmured, "All right, then, Oecula? Not my fault, you know. Anything else-"
"When I've had some breakfast you can baste yourself silly if you want to," interrupted the black girl. "For now, jus' let me be." And thereupon, the old woman at this moment returning with her basket full of plums and apricots, the talk broke off.
At least the old woman did not stint them. Maia, in spite of everything, made a hearty meal and, as is often the way in trouble, began to feel the better for it. Also, it raised her spirits a little to perceive that Megdon at least seemed to show some consideration in dealing with Oecula and herself. He spoke a few kindly words to her, said he was sorry about Genshed, assured her that nothing of the kind would happen again and told her to ask him for anything she needed.
"Just because I'm a slave-trader you mustn't think I'm a brute," he concluded.
"Who are you foolin'?" asked Oecula. "Besides yourself, I mean?"
"No, honest, I won't let her come to any harm," said Megdon. "Not if she's a friend of yours, Occula. Let her go and choose herself some clothes. Come on, Shirrin," he said to the old woman. "Wash your hands and show her what's in those cupboards down the passage."
If the old woman had shown her any warmth or kindness while they were alone together, no doubt Maia would have given way to more tears. Her surly indifference, however, only went to prove the soundness of Occula's advice. Maia, to the best of her ability, preserved her detachment and said as little as possible. The clothes were fully as good as any she had ever been used to, and anyway she was too much upset to be hard to satisfy. Twenty minutes later she returned to Occula's room, which she found empty.
She had just taken off the scarlet cloak and folded it across the bed when the black girl strolled through the open door, wearing her shift and carrying the rest of her clothes over one arm.
"Just doan' talk to me, banzi," she said, flinging herself prone across the bed. "O Gran, I'm just about ready to throw up! That dirty little stinker-I thought when it came to the big moment I'd get what we want out of him, but did I hell? He's still sayin' it can' be done. I've just given him a baste for nothin', that's what it comes to."
"You mean, about going to Hirdo today?" said Maia. Occula made no reply and after a moment Maia asked rather hesitantly. "Why's it so important? I don't want to go to Hirdo-I don't want to go anywhere-'ceptin' home."
Occula rolled over, looking up at her with half-closed eyes and compressed lips.
"D'you think I'm goin' to go trampin' to Hirdo in a slave-gang-three-quarters of them pot-drabs and scullery-girls-very likely chained-and that bastard Perdan in charge, probably with a whip? And who's goin' to carry, this box of mine? D'you suppose I'm goin' to arrive in Bekla in a herd, lookin' like some Deelguy drover's ten-meld bang-bargain? Banzi, you just doan' know what it's all about, do you? We've got to try to arrive at Bekla in style, my girl! This blasted man Lalloc's got to feel we're the biggest catch this side of the Telthearna-the sort of girls he can sell into some really wealthy household. You doan' want to be flogged off to some bloody knockin'-shop in the lower city, do you, where you start bad and go right on down? We've got to start four or five rungs up the
ladder, and go up another three before next year. Now doan' interrup' me. Jus' let me think."
She turned on her belly and for some time lay unmoving, her face buried in her arms. Maia went across to the window and resumed her silent contemplation of the overgrown garden. There came back to her the words of an old song her father had sometimes sung.
Would to Cran we were the geese, For they live and die at peace-
She choked back a sob, and in a few moments would have been crying in earnest, had not Occula at that instant suddenly sprung up like a hare from the fern, clapped her hands and cried, "Banzi!" so sharply that Maia jumped.
"This is risky and it may not work," said the black girl, kneeling in front of her chest and rummaging under a jumble of gaudy clothes and brightly-colored knick-knacks, "but we'll try it. Stands to reason a slave-trader's agents in a place like this have got to be bone-stupid. Now, listen, banzi-ah, here it is!-you got to get this right, 'cos we can't do it twice and anyway I've only got one of these bastin' things. A Deelguy from up north gave it to me last ye
ar, after I'd made sure he'd really enjoyed himself. I've never seen it used yet, but he said for Gran's sake doan' use it unless you mean business, because it's god-awful. Let's hope it is!"
She handed to Maia a gray-colored object about as big as an apple, the covering of which was a kind of coarse canvas. It was not entirely firm, but gave slightly under the fingers. Maia could feel, inside, a gravel-like sliding and crunching of granules.
"Hide this somewhere under your clothes, where you can get it out quickly," said Occula. "All right? Now: this is Kantza-Merada. Take a good look at her."
Drawing the strings of a cloth bag, she took out of it a figure carved in polished black wood. It was about nine inches high, squat, big-bellied, the conical breasts pointed like weapons, the slit-mouthed face a level, tilted plane broken only by nostrils and by slant, black-pupilled eyes of white bone. Meeting their gaze Maia shuddered, making the sign against evil. Indeed, the figure seemed to manifest overpoweringly something far beyond the mere image of a woman. It was not like a work of art created by the carver from experience and imagination, but rather a kind
of revelation-for those who could endure it-of the true nature of the world; transcendentally malevolent, pitiless and savage.
"Doan' you start thinkin' this is Kantza-Merada," said Occula, observing with satisfaction the undisguised fear and horror of the younger girl. "This is only jus' to put anyone in mind of Kantza-Merada, that's all. You ought to be in the Govig at night, banzi, with the sand-wind blowin', and hear the drums beatin' when you know there's no one around for hundreds of miles. That's when you pray to Kantza-Merada-not when you're safe in bed in Thettit. Where I come from, they pray to a real goddess; one with power-not to Cran and Airtha. Still, never min' that now. We're goin' back down, and I'm goin' to kick up a real bastin' racket, understand? You keep out of the way, but whatever you do stay close to the fire. Once I start in they'll forget about you. When you hear me call on Kantza-Merada, and not before, put that ball in the fire-only doan' let anyone see you doin' it-and then run straight over to me and act like you're frightened. Go mad-call out "No, no, doan'!"-anythin' you like. And doan' get it wrong, see? because everythin' depends on that ball burnin'. If that dirty little Megdon thinks he can baste me for nothin' and get away with it, I'm goin' to hit him with everythin' I've got. Now doan' start askin' questions, banzi, or we'll never get to Hirdo tonight. Come on down, and min' you get it right."
Megdon, with a look of satisfied contentment, was drowsing on a bench, while the old woman crouched on the floor, scouring a pot with sharp sand. Occula, who was still wearing nothing but her shift, walked up to her and kicked the pot out of her hands. At the clatter Megdon sat up quickly.
"Baste you!" said the black girl. "I'm goin' to Hirdo- now! Understand?"
"Now don't go too far, Occula!" said Megdon sharply. "Enough's enough! I can have you whipped, d'you realize that? Just you go and pick that pot up, go on!"
Occula spat in her hand and slapped his face. At the same moment the old woman, coming up behind her, grabbed her by the hair. Occula turned quickly, clenched her fist and knocked her down.
"Perdan!" shouted Megdon at the top of his voice. "Per-dan! Here! Quick!"
Running across to the door leading into the courtyard, Occula beat on it frenziedly.
"Open this damned, bastin' door!" she screamed. "I'm goin' to Hirdo! I'm goin' to Hirdo!"
Perdan, stooping under the lintel, strode quickly into the room holding a length of cord in one hand.
"Now, miss, now!" yelled the old woman, picking herself up and following him across to the door. "You'll just find out-"
"Don't damage her, Perdan!" said Megdon quickly. "Just tie her up!"
"Kantza-Merada!" cried Occula. "Kantza-Merada, blot this damn' place off the face of the earth!" Kneeling, flinging back her head and raising both arms, she burst into a torrent of speech in a snarling, foreign tongue.
Maia, standing close beside the hearth, dropped the canvas ball into the red heart of the fire.
"Kantza-Merada!" cried Occula again. "Fire and smoke! Fire and smoke come down!"
Maia rushed across the room.
"Don't, Occula, don't! Not that! No, not that! You'll kill us all! You'll kill us!"
"Belch smoke and fall roof!" screamed Occula at the top of her voice. "Kantza-Merada, smoke and smother this filthy house!"
On the instant there leapt up on the hearth a quick, brilliant flash. As it vanished, masses of dense, black smoke began to pour into the room. Perdan, cursing, let go his hold of Occula. Megdon and the old woman, choking and gasping, were blotted out in an all-enveloping, acrid smother. Maia, terrified, felt Occula grab her wrist.
"Keep it up, banzi," whispered the black girl. "Go on!"
"Take it away, Occula!" screamed Maia. "Call it back! Don't kill them! Oh, no! not like that last time-" She could get no further. Her throat was full of the smoke, which seemed almost palpable, thick as wool and bitter. She felt herself suffocating, her head reeling, eyes burning under tight-shut lids. The invisible room seemed turning upside-down. She fell forward into Occula's arms.
At the same instant one or other of the two men contrived to get the door open. A few moments later Occula, stumbling through the swirling blackness, half-dragged and half-supported Maia outside. In the doorway she almost fell over the prostrate body of the old woman but, re-
covering herself, groped forward into the open courtyard and lowered Maia into a sitting position on the edge of a stone cattle-trough. Both girls were covered with a thick grime which clung in greasy, cobweb-like streaks to their faces, hair and clothes.
"Well done, banzi!" panted Occula. "Do you reckon it'll burn the damned house down?"
"That old woman, Occula!" gasped Maia. "We'll have to get her out or she'll die!"
"Hope so," answered the black girl. "No; no such luck: here she comes, look!"
The smoke was still pouring thickly both out of the windows and the door, but in the courtyard had dispersed into a somewhat thinner cloud. Through this, as they watched, Megdon and Perdan appeared, dragging the old woman between them. They laid her down on the cobbles and Megdon, kneeling beside her, raised her head with one hand and slapped her cheeks with the other.
"It's stoppin', look!" whispered Occula. "You wait here, banzi: I've got to be quick, now."
With this she ran up the courtyard towards the house. At her approach both men backed away in obvious fear, leaving the old woman lying where she was. Occula, spreading her arms, faced about and stood in the doorway. For several seconds she waited. Then, bowing her head and folding her hands at her waist she called, "O Kantza-Merada, take back thy fire! If it be thy will, spare this vile house at thy servant's plea!" Then once more she spoke in the unknown tongue; and at length fell silent, standing motionless as the smoke slowly thinned about her.
Meanwhile the old woman had come to her senses, sitting up on the stones and weakly clutching here and there at her fouled clothes. So forlorn and bedraggled did she appear, like some wretched old hen not worth the killing,, that Maia could not help pitying her. She stood up, intending to go and help her if she could; but at this the old woman gave a screech, got to her feet and hobbled across to the men on the other side of the courtyard.
Occula continued to stand in the doorway, gazing at the ground as though in a trance. The men were plainly at a loss, afraid to go near or even speak to her. So for a while they remained as they were, the black girl still as a statue; the men muttering to each other in low voices; the old woman moaning and rocking herself from side to side; and
Maia, a little distance away, sitting down once more on the edge of the trough.
At length Megdon, with the air of one compelling himself to act, went across to Occula. He seemed about to speak when the girl-taller than he-raised her head and stared at him. His words died on his lips and after a moment she, as though giving a command to some animal- an ox in the shafts, perhaps, or a dog-uttered the one word: "Hirdo!"
Megdon seemed about to reply when suddenly Perdan forestalled him.
"Let her go, the damned black witch, before she kills us all with her sorcery!"
"Ay, ay! In Cran's name!" whimpered the old woman.
Megdon said nothing. Occula turned and walked slowly back into the kitchen; and here the others, following one by one-Maia a little behind the rest-found her leaning, with folded arms, against the side of the hearth. The fire was burning normally, but the entire room and everything in it was coated with a foul soot clinging alike to walls and furniture. There was a disgusting, vellicative reek, as of burnt bones.
The old woman began to weep-from fear, it seemed, as much as from dismay.
Megdon turned to Perdan. "The girls Genshed's bring-ing'U have to clean this up tonight. It'll take hours. Shirrin can't do it on her own."
Perdan made no reply.
"Go and get one of the carts ready," said Megdon.
Perdan looked up. "I'm not taking her!"
"I'll drive it," replied Megdon. "Just go and get the damned cart ready, Perdan, that's all!"
Occula spoke from the fireside. "Food." She jerked her thumb towards Maia. "Get her some hot water. Fresh. clothes."
Half an hour later Maia, washed and changed, but still feeling as unsteady as though she had escaped from drowning, carried a pail of hot water up to Occula's room. The black girl was lying naked on the bed, her fouled shift crumpled across one of the stools. She had vomited into an old earthenware pot, and one arm was hanging down from the bed as though to grab it again at need. She looked up and grinned weakly at Maia.
"Cran! I thought we'd done for ourselves, banzi, didn'
you? I just hope they felt as bad as we did, that's all. Think you can clear this away without anyone seein' you? Oh, chuck the lot out the damned window-what's it matter? When they're ready to go, call me, and send that lout up to fetch my chest."
9: OCCULA'S COMFORT
At Hirdo the track ran into the paved road between Thettit and Bekla. In this town the slave-dealers had no private quarters, as at Puhra, but paid the keeper of one of the inns to provide accommodation as often as they might require it.
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