Maia

by Richard Adams

  A voice was shouting: her own voice or another's? In her own mind, or the voice of some bygone victim, some water-ghost wailing in the cataract? Why must she go on suffering, why could she not submit herself to the river and drown? Yet she could not, but still gulped and fought for air, no longer swimming, becoming nothing but flotsam tossed and battered from rock to rock. Looking up suddenly, she saw the fire quite plainly. It was level with her;

  and it must be close, for she could actually make out the shape of a blazing log. There were-O Lespa!-there were men beside it; men standing secure on dry land, not thirty yards away!

  Next moment her head struck heavily against a rock. For a moment she felt a dizzy, sickening pain, and then nothing more.

  At first she was aware of nothing but pain. She did not wonder whether she was dead or alive, whether she was on dry land or still in the river, whether she was alone or with others. Pain, lying over her body like thick mist, blotted out all else. She knew only that she was covered in pain from head to foot. She could feel, like a kind of spring from which one particular pain was welling up and flowing out, a great contusion, tender and throbbing, across her right temple. One forearm, too, was horribly painful, as though it had been scraped and torn up and down with a grater. She could feel the wound in her thigh throbbing and as she moved that leg, a sudden agony from her toes shot up it, making her cry out.

  There were voices near-by, but it was as though she were hearing them through the thickness of a wall. They were Tonildan voices, but she could not make out what they were saying. How could she be in Tonilda? A voice spoke close to her ear, and as it did so she remembered the river, the rocks, the fire. A moist finger was rubbing her lips with something bitter and strong. She recognized it: it was djebbah, the raw spirit the peasants distilled from corn. Tharrin had once given her some, and had laughed when she choked on it.

  She opened her eyes. She was beside a fire-that very fire-yes, it could only be-which she had seen from the river. She was wrapped in a cloak and lying on a rough blanket. Her thigh was tightly bound up-rather too tightly. A soldier was kneeling beside her, supporting her head on his arm. Three or four more soldiers were looking down at her.

  So she had crossed the river! An enormous sense of achievement and satisfaction rose up in her. The pain was still very bad-the worst she had ever known-but now she could endure it. She was among friends: she was not going to die in the river.

  "Lespa be praised!" she whispered aloud.

  The soldier supporting her, a big, burly fellow, said, "How you feeling, lass?"

  "Bad," she moaned. "Reckon I'm bad!"

  "Have a drop more of this. It'll kill the pain-deaden it, like."

  Little by little Maia's circle of awareness was growing. The light of the fire made it difficult to see much beyond, but she could hear the river close by, while on her other side stood two or three huts, one with a stack' of spears piled against the wall. The man supporting her head was wearing the badges of a tryzatt.

  "All right, lass," said the tryzatt. "Just try'n take it easy, now."

  "What-what happened?" she asked, "You pulled me out?"

  "Jolan here got you out," he said. "We heard you shouting in the river, and he went in after you. It was a miracle you weren't swept away, only you were jammed in between two rocks out there, see?"

  "Thank you," she said, trying to smile at the man towards whom the tryzatt was pointing. "I can't say n'more. Hope you're not hurt." The man grinned and shook his head. His forehead was bleeding.

  "How did you come to be in the river?" asked the tryzatt. " 'Twasn't no accident, was it? You in trouble? Tryin' to make away with yourself, were you?"

  Now, and only now, Maia remembered everything- Zenka, the Terekenalt night attack, her own desperate resolve. She tried to stand up, but at once fell back with an appalling spasm of pain up her leg. The tryzatt caught her.

  "Easy, now, girl! Nothing's that bad. You're not the first and you won't be the last." Suddenly he paused, looking at her sharply as a fresh thought struck him. "Did you throw yourself in-or did someone push you? Come on, now-what happened? Just tell us the truth of it."

  "Easy, tryze," said one of the men. "The poor banzi's all in. Why not leave it till morning?"

  "Ay, maybe you're right," answered the tryzatt. "Then we can-"

  Maia clutched his arm. "Tryzatt, listen! You must take me to Rallur at once-"

  "No, not tonight!" he said. "You just forget your trou-

  bles for a bit, lass, and go to sleep. We'll look after you, don't worry."

  "No! No!" She was frantic. "They're your troubles! Listen-"

  "She's off her head," said the man called Man. " Tain't surprisin', considerin'-"

  "Listen! You must listen to me!" But now her head and every part of her was hurting so badly that she could not even collect her thoughts, let alone talk. At last she managed to say, "I've swum the river from Suba." And then "King Karnat-"

  "Steady, girl," said the tryzatt again. "No use tellin' us a lot of old nonsense, now. That's not goin' to make your troubles any lighter."

  "Oh, please listen to me! I tell you, the Beklan army's in terrible danger! Those Tonildans south of Rallur-"

  "Why, what do you know about Tonildans south of Rallur?" asked the tryzatt sharply.

  Maia was trying to gather strength to reply when suddenly Jolan came forward, stooped and looked closely into her face.

  "Hold on, tryze," he said. "Wait a minute. You're from Tonilda, aren't you?" he asked Maia.

  "Yes."

  "Whereabouts?"

  "Near Meerzat."

  "Well, if you know Meerzat," he asked her quietly and in no tone of disbelief, "what's the name of the inn by the harbor?"

  " 'The Safe Moorings.' It's kept by a woman called Frarnli, with a cast in her eye."

  "I've seen you there," he said. "I knew I'd seen you somewhere. Who were you with?"

  "Tharrin. He's my stepfather."

  He nodded. "That's right enough, tryze. I have seen her in Meerzat and I know Tharrin, too."

  "Well, but if you're from Meerzat, what are you doing here?" asked the tryzatt.

  "General Kembri-an agent. I crossed-into Suba-three nights ago." Then, seeing his look of unbelief, she clutched his wrist. "It's the truth! I've come from a place called Melvda. I swam the river-"

  "Listen," said the tryzatt, "we're two miles down from

  Melvda, d'you know that? Anyway no one could swim across the river here."

  "I tell you Karnat's crossing the river tonight! How far are we from Rallur?"

  All the soldiers were gathered round her now. " 'Bout a mile, near enough," answered one of the men.

  "Ah, bit less, maybe."

  "You must take me to the commander in Rallur. Karnat's crossing now, I tell you!"

  "What's his name, then, the commander?" asked the tryzatt. "You say General Kembri sent you-"

  "Sendekar of Ikat."

  There was a pause. "Reckon we'd best take her, tryze," said Jolan at length. "Only if what she's saying's the truth, see, and it comes out later as we didn't-"

  There were mutters of agreement from the other men.

  "Reckon she's hardly in no state to go, though," said the tryzatt uncertainly. "Are you?" he asked Maia. "And as for saying she's swum across the river, that's just plain ridiculous-"

  "Carry me!" said Maia. "You must!" The thought of being jolted a mile to Rallur was almost unbearable, but even worse was the prospect of failing now, at the end; of all she had done and endured going for nothing.

  The tryzatt pondered with maddening deliberation. "Well," he replied at length, "dare say we can fix up something to carry you on, but it won't be all that comfortable, mind. And you'll have to watch that leg: that's nasty, that is; you've lost a lot of blood. Jolan, boy, you'd better run on ahead-tell them to wake the general and tell him she's coming." He turned back to Maia. "You're sure now? Only you said it, lass, we didn't."

  She nodded. "I'm sure enough."r />
  Within the hour General Sendekar, roused from his bed in Rallur, was sitting beside Maia's as she told him of Karnat's crossing and the plan to destroy the Olmen bridge. After about ten minutes she fell back in a faint, but he had already heard enough.

  Throughout the early hours of that night-the night of the 15th/16th Azith-King Karnat's army, supported by an auxiliary force of about two thousand Subans, marched in successive companies to the place downstream of Melvda-

  Rain which, his Suban allies had advised the king, was feasible for a crossing. At this point the river was relatively broad and accordingly somewhat (though not a great deal) less swift and deep. Karnat himself, the strongest and tallest man in his own army, waded into the water with a rope paid out behind him, and carrying a forked pole with which to steady himself against the current. Twice he was swept downstream and pulled back to the western bank. At the third attempt he succeeded in crossing and securing the rope to a tree-trunk on the eastern side. Other ropes were then put across.

  The rest of the spearhead force, consisting of about four hundred Terekenalters, two hundred Katrians and as many Subans under the command of Anda-Nokomis, their Ban, crossed in something less than two hours and at once set out upstream to destroy the bridge over the Olmen south of Rallur. Unexpectedly, they found it defended by two hastily assembled companies of Tonildans, whom they attacked vigorously, the king himself leading the assault. The Tonildans, however, were able to prevent the destruction of the bridge and, as the confused, nocturnal fighting continued, were reinforced by Beklan troops commanded by Sendekar in person. For a matter of some three hours the main Terekenalt army, to the south, continued their crossing of the Valderra in accordance with the king's original plan, he himself trusting that enough men would get over to enable him to drive back the Beklans and destroy the bridge. At length, however, realizing that with the unexpected loss of surprise success had slipped from his grasp, he sent back orders to Lenkrit to halt the crossing and withdraw across the Valderra. He himself, as the Beklans gradually gained the upper hand, defended his contracting bridgehead by a brilliantly-conducted fighting retreat which effectively discouraged the enemy from pressing home then-advantage, mauled as they were by one determined counterattack after another. During one of these Anda-Nokomis, who in leading his Subans had shown throughout the night a total disregard for his own safety, disappeared among the thick of the enemy, and when Karnat, arrived back at the crossing-point, re-formed his depleted force, remained unaccounted for.

  The greater part of the Terekenalt army re-crossed to the west bank successfully, and losses among the king's spearhead troops turned out not to have been unduly heavy.

  Among them, however, was the Katrian staff officer Zen-Kurel who, smarting under a stern rebuke from the king for having absented himself at Melvda until the army was on the very point of setting out, had been continually and recklessly taking part in one foray after another. Next morning a wounded tryzatt told the king of having seen the young man slip and go down on muddy, trampled ground, but in the half-darkness there had been much disorder and he could not tell what the end of it might have been.

  Having grasped that the enemy were in full retreat across the river, Sendekar broke off the fighting, glad to see the back of them so cheaply. About two hours after dawn they cut the ropes, the king himself being the last man to cross.

  There could be no doubt-as Sendekar emphasized in reporting to General Kembri-that the failure of the attack had been largely, if not entirely, due to the courage and resourcefulness of the Tonildan slave-girl Maia of Serre-lind, who, alone and entirely without help among the enemy at Melvda-Rain, had not onry succeeded in discovering their plans but had thereupon escaped, swum the impassable Valderra by night-an all-but-incredible feat, in the course of which she had sustained severe injuries- and brought warning to Rallur in the nick of time. In the circumstances he had thought it only fitting to order the news of her heroism to be proclaimed throughout the army.

  PART III THE SERRELINDA

  53: SELPERRON BUYS SOME FLOWERS

  It was not often that Selperron-a merchant of Kabin- came up to Bekla. Indeed, he had done so only twice before in his life; once as a youth, together with his parents, though that, of course, had been many years ago now, and in the same of Senda-na-Say. Selperron was a dealer in oxhides and other animal skins, though he was also not above such side-lines as river shells and the plumes marketed by the Ortelgan forest hunters. For some time past business had been improving. Apart from the buoyant state of the market, however, his elder son was now of an age to be useful in the business, while his second wife (for Selperron had been widowed some four years before) was a brisk, competent woman, as good as a man when it came to dealing with customers and reckoning profit and loss.

  For the first time in years, therefore, he had felt able, this summer, to afford time and money for a trip to Bekla, leaving the business in safe hands. It should not, in fact, prove an unduly expensive jaunt (unless he were to make it so), since he had arranged to stay with an old friend, one N'Kasit, a Kabinese in the same line of business, who had rather unexpectedly uprooted himself and gone to Bekla four years before. N'Kasit had been fortunate enough to obtain from General Kembri a contract (though not a monopoly) to supply leather to the army, and was now doing well. Selperron had sent him consignments of hides at profit, for Bekla's selling prices were higher than Ka-bin's; and N'Kasit, during a visit home the year before, had suggested that Selperron should himself accompany his next consignment up to Bekla. Selperron had felt attracted by the idea; and now, in short, the trip had really come about.

  The journey, in a convoy of ox-cart carriers, slave-gangers and their wares, three or four other travelers like himself and the usual half-company of soldiers for protection (who cost far too much, but it was that or nothing), had been somewhat wearisome. Once, he might rather have enjoyed it, but Selperron had now reached a time of life (and fortune) when he preferred comfort and good food, and somehow the inns along the road had not proved all that he seemed to remember. Among the slaves there had been a girl who wept continually, and this, too-being

  a kindly and impressionable man-he had found a trial.

  Once they reached Bekla, however, he had at once felt all the fascination and excitement of earlier days. At the first, distant sight of the slender, balconied towers, the Peacock Wall extending above the lower city and the Palace of the Barons crowning the Leopard Hill beyond, his spirits had soared. Coming in through the Blue Gate, he had been delighted by the tumult and crowds all about him. Forgoing a jekzha-for he fancied the idea of stopping as he pleased to look around him-he had hired a lad with a barrow for his baggage-roll and strolled beside him along the streets, noting not so much the buildings, or even the Tamarrik Gate and the temple, as the goods displayed for sale and the trafficking at the shops and stalls. Merely to see brisk business going on and things being bought and sold gave pleasure to Selperron, and by the time he reached N'Kasit's house, near the western clock tower, he was in even better humor and more than ready to reciprocate his friend's greetings and polite inquiries after his family and old acquaintances in Kabin. The first evening they had dined at home, after which Selperron had slept long and comfortably, undisturbed by any night-sounds of the city.

  And now here they were together, idling on a midsummer day, taking their leisure and seeing the sights, the sun pleasantly warm on their backs and the city babble and savors and throngs all around them as they sauntered up the Kharjiz towards Storks Hill and Masons Street. On the bridge over the Monju Brook N'Kasit stopped and they leaned side by side over the parapet, looking upstream to where the water ran glittering round the curve at the base of the Tower of the Orphans. Further down in their direction was a little garden, and here a weeping willow overhung the stream, its branches forming a kind of watery arbor as they trailed in the slack current.

  "Did you do well this last Melekril?" asked Selperron after a time. He spoke with appropriately off-hand
diffidence-a blend between the natural interest of a business associate and a friend wishing to seem politely but not unduly inquisitive.

  "That's-well-quite a difficult question to answer, even two or three months after," replied N'Kasit. "As things have turned out, I'm still overstocked. It's a damned nui-

  sance having money tied up in stuff that's been on my hands as long as this."

  "Well," answered Selperron, "one beauty of our line of business is that at least stock doesn't go bad on you. That market-girl over there's got to sell her fruit quick, but you and I can always hang on to hides and wait for our return."

  "Normally, yes," said N'Kasit, "and as a rule, if a proportion of Melekril stock's not been taken off my hands before the spring festival I'm not much troubled; but this time I was fully expecting to be robbed and possibly murdered into the bargain."

  Selperron stared and shook his head, looking suitably concerned. "We heard all kinds of rumors in Kabin, but thank Cran everything stayed quiet enough down there."

  "You should just have been up here, then," replied N'Kasit. "After the murder of the High Counselor that night, no one knew what to expect. People were burying their valuables and even sending their wives and children away-those who could afford to. A lot of them were expecting another revolution, like the time when Senda-na-Say was killed."

  "But of course it didn't come to that," replied Selperron.

  "No: but there was a fair amount of robbery and looting, you see, and some people were saying it must have been organized. And then not long after the murder Santil-ke-Erketlis came out against Bekla, and young Elleroth joined him from Sarkid. So we didn't know but what there mightn't be some sort of heldro bunch organizing trouble here in the city-just as Fornis's supporters did before she came up from Dari getting on for eight years ago. I don't mind telling you, I was scared. There simply weren't enough soldiers here, you see; most of them had just left for the Valderra. I asked for an armed guard for the warehouse, but I never got a man. Think of it-forty or fifty thousand melds' worth of portable stock and only me and a night-watchman! I slept there myself for three or four nights- me and my man Malendik. We had one sword and a knife between us, that's all. But nothing came of it, thank the gods; and as I was saying, about half the stock's still there now, waiting to be sold. Well, it's no good worrying."