she did not want to be and-had nowhere to go. She knew clearly enough that she was relinquishing the hope which had upheld her and prompted her actions ever since that night in Melvda-Rain. For months past she had known what she longed for, and now she had turned away from it.
And there were no compensations. If she had been five or six years older she might, perhaps, have comforted herself with the prospect of becoming the greatest lady in Uriah, a figure of power and consequence in the empire and one probably well able, with experience and the exercise of tact and discretion, to control and give guidance to a husband who would be only too glad to receive it. But what could all that mean to sixteen-year-old Maia, even had she been able to envisage it?
She fell asleep at last, just as first light was breaking and the mynahs and starlings were beginning to murmur along the ledges outside. She dreamt of the river and the soldiers who had carried her to Sendekar, but when she woke could find little meaning or comfort in the dream. Poor Maia was young enough to feel ashamed of what she was going to do; nor did it occur to her that this shame was creditable.
Brero, like the good fellow he was, could sense that something was wrong. He stood fidgeting on the little terrace as Maia, who had summoned him, at first remained silent, hesitating for the last time before sending her irreclaimable message. There were three possible ways of doing it. (Ah, rope, knife or poison, she thought bitterly; these being the options traditionally offered in the empire to someone compelled to commit suicide.) Either she could send Eud-Ecachlon a letter of acceptance, or she could herself go to Kembri's house and tell him; or else she could invite him to come and see her again. Not having much confidence for writing a letter (and not, of course, wishing to employ a scribe) and having no particular desire to encounter Kembri, she had decided on the last, and accordingly had packed Ogma off to the markets of the lower city for the makings of a slap-up dinner. It really was like being executed, she thought. If it had to happen, then it ought to be endured with style and courage. Yet now, with Brero waiting uneasily before her, she hung back, looked
at the ground, drummed her fingers on her knee, began to speak and then broke off.
"Brero, I want you-I want you to-"
"Yes, saiyett?"
These were the last moments of her youth, she thought. She had only to speak, now, and her life would cease to be her own, for ever. Her tongue was like a knife, about to cut away all that was past, which would thereupon float away and disappear behind her. There'd be no delay, either; she felt sure of that. Kembri would not lose any time in making the news of the betrothal public throughout the city.
She stood up and turned aside, filled with an uncontrollable anguish. In the act of trying to speak her lips trembled and for a few moments her sight actually clouded over. She realized that Brero had taken her arm and led her the few steps back to the bench.
"Very awkward times, these, saiyett; very awkward for everyone."
She looked up into his rugged, kindly face, not sure whether he meant something specific or was only trying as best he could to express a vague sympathy.
"I don't know whether you've heard the news, saiyett, but what they're saying in our mess is that Santil-ke-Er-ketlis has actually defeated Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion somewhere in Yelda, and our lads are falling back into Lapan. You wouldn't happen to know, I suppose, whether that's true?"
What's that to me? she thought. "No, I haven't heard anything, Brero. If I do I'll pass it on to you."
He hesitated. "Saiyett, I can see you're a bit upset, like; and that's none of my business, of course. But for what it's worth, I'd like to warn you-though I hope you won't tell anyone it came from me-that I'm not the only fellow in our mob as reckons there's going to be a whole lot of trouble, and 'fore very much longer too."
He paused, but she was too much preoccupied to prompt him.
"Only we sometimes get to hear things, saiyett, before they're given out by the heralds, you see; and sometimes, come to that, things that never are given out at all. Just, lads come back from the front and tell their mates. Well, you see, it's only that I'm hoping they'll let me go on being one of them as looks after you. I'm no coward-I've seen
plenty of action since I first joined up-but it's a good soldier who knows how to look after himself, as they say. If you could use your influence-that's if you're satisfied, saiyett, as I hope you are-I'm sure I'll be very grateful."
Recalled to her self-possession by this harmless and understandable bit of self-seeking, she smiled.
"Of course I will, Brero; don't worry. Now could you please be so kind as to go to the Lord General's house, ask for Lord Eud-Ecachlon of Urtah and tell him I'll be honored if he'll come to dinner with me a little after noon today?"
"But whatever kept you so long, Ogma? Oh, yes, I'm sure you must have taken great care to get all the best you could find. I know you always do-those brillions look lovely, and so do the trout-only now it's so late in the morning. Lord Eud-Ecachlon will be here quite soon and you'll need all of an hour to get dinner ready. Do make a start as quick as you can, there's a dear."
"Well, I would have been back a lot sooner, Miss Maia," said Ogma, her voice taking on the querulous, defensive tone with which Maia had become familiar, "if only it hadn't been for being bothered and pestered and-and followed all up the street and made to look that much of a fool until I didn't know if I was coming or going. And when you're a slave there's nothing you can do about it and-and 'tisn't likely, miss, that anyone's going to interfere to help the likes of me," ended poor Ogma, who was obviously on the point of tears. "It's all right for some, as has soldiers to pull them about in jekzhas-"
"Now, Ogma," said Maia quickly, though inwardly she was fuming at this additional waste of time; it would have to happen now, she thought. "Just try to calm yourself! It's all over now. Were they street louts, or what? You tell me who it was and I promise you I'll see they get something to remember. Did you tell them who you were and that you work for me?"
"Why, he knows very well as I work for you, miss. 'Course he does! That's why he was on pestering me and wouldn't go away. I had to call out to the guards on the Peacock Gate, else I couldn't have got away from him or got back here at all."
Who the hell could this be? thought Maia. Not Ran-
dronoth-no, nor anyone else she could think of: presumably some boorish stranger from one of the outer provinces, besotted by having got a sight of the Serrelinda and ready to try anything. Well, there'd be an end to all that soon enough now.
"You say he knows you work for me?"
"Well, 'course he does, miss. That's why he wouldn't go away. 'You take me through the gate with you,'he says. 'They know who you are and they'll let me through if you tell them the Serrelinda wants to see me urgently.' So I says, 'No,' I says. 'The Serrelinda's got a dinner-party today,' I says, 'and you've made me late as it is. What I'll do, I'll tell her you're here,' I says,' 'cos last time she said I ought to have let her know that much, but if you think I'm going to take a branded man through the gate into the upper city,' I says-"
"Ogma! A branded man?"
"Yes, that there Sednil, miss, of course! He-"
"Sednil? You mean to say he's back here-already?"
"I don't know nothing about back already, miss, but that's who it was."
"Ogma, never mind about the dinner! Just put all those things in the kitchen, quickly: then come back here. I'll write you a note for the guards on the gate. You're to go back at once, find Sednil and bring him here as quick as you can, understand? No, don't say any more; just do as I tell you!"
Snatching up her brush and ink, she sat down and began with laborious care, "The barer of this worront is Sednil of Dari…"
"But Sednil, what brought you back so soon? I wasn't expecting you for-oh, for weeks! You've never been to Urtah, surely?"
"No," he replied. "No, I didn't go to Urtah; I just went to Dari."
They were sitting side-by-side on the roof. Shortly after the flustered and
thoroughly disgruntled Ogma had left on her errand, Brero had returned from the Lord General's house with the message that Eud-Ecachlon would certainly come as soon as possible, but regretted that he might be delayed by an important Council meeting about to be held at the Barons' Palace. He had not yet appeared, and Maia had taken Sednil up to the roof, partly because it was the
most secluded place in her small house and partly in order to make sure of giving a convincing impression that she was not at home for the moment, having had to go out for a short time-which was what Ogma had been told to say.
"But why? Oh, Sednil, you mean you've come back without finding anything out? After I'd given you all that money-"
"No, no," he answered. "I didn't need to go to Urtah, Maia: I found out all there is to be found out in Dari."
His manner, grave and unsmiling, roused in her a quick trepidation. "You mean-you mean Zen-Kurel's dead? You've found out that he's dead!"
"No, he's not dead. He's a prisoner in the fortress at Dari. There were quite a few, you know-Terekenalters, Katrians, Subans as well-taken in the fight at Rallur. Bayub-Otal was one of them, as everybody knows. Well, your Zen-Kurel was another. Apparently he was fighting like a perfect devil when he slipped and went down in the mud. Someone noticed from his badges that he was a staff officer and reckoned he might be worth a ransom, so they jumped on him and took him prisoner."
"How did you find this out?"
"Well, when I told my old mother what I was up to- she sends you her blessings, by the way. She was more than grateful for the money-she said she knew there were some Katrian prisoners in the fortress and why didn't I check on them for a start, before I went to Urtah. I couldn't see there was any danger in asking straight out, so I went there and asked to see one of the captains of the fortress. The man I saw was Durakkon's younger son. He's no sort of a soldier at all, but he's a very decent, kind-hearted sort of fellow. Just as well-a real dyed-in-the-wool officer would probably have thrown me out. I told him my story about having known this Zen-Kurel when we'd both been banzis in Dari, and he told me at once-well, what I've already told you. Zen-Kurel's reasonably well, as far as I can make out-as well as anyone can be in that place-and Bayub-Otal too."
"Then-then surely they'll all be let out, won't they, as soon as things have quietened down? I could send him a letter, couldn't I, 'specially if you say this son of Durakkon's is so nice? Or-oh, Sednil, I could ransom him myself, surely?"
"You might have tried, perhaps." He gazed at her somberly.
"What d'you mean?"
He took her hand. "Maia, there's something more, and this is the bad bit, I'm afraid. Fornis is in Dari."
"Fornis? Well, I know she is. What about it?"
"She's got the whole of Paltesh under her control, and it's rumored that Han-Glat, who's in command of the fortress, has become her lover. That's what she intended all along, I dare say: Han-Glat's about the one man who could stand up to Kembri, you see."
"Her lover?"
"Well, whether he is or not, no one's in any doubt that he's ready to do anything she wants him to. She's got Paltesh, she's got the fortress and she's got the prisoners. No one knows for certain what she's planning, but when I left, people were saying that she was in touch with some of the runaway slave bands in Belishba."
Maia shook her head uncomprehendingly.
"Well, you probably know more about Fornis than I do, Maia: I only know she's a woman who's ready to stick at nothing; and very bold and cunning, too. I think what she may really be trying to do is to make Kembri so nervous that he'll tell Durakkon to invite her to come back and confirm her as Sacred Queen again. And if he won't, she's perfectly capable of seceding from the empire and putting Paltesh at Karnat's disposal. At the least that would worry the Leopards very badly, but at the best-from her point of view, that is-she could hope to return to Bekla with Karnat and his army. That's to say, she could give him the empire!"
"Oh, damn the empire!" said Maia. "The prisoners! The prisoners, Sednil-"
"Why, the prisoners are one of her strongest bargaining counters, don't you see? She's got Bayub-Otal and something like sixty or seventy Katrians and Terekenalters, including two or three of Karnat's best officers. She means to sell herself and them-and Paltesh-to- her own best advantage, that's certain."
Maia, white-faced, fists clenched, stood up, staring out over the parapet of the roof across the lower city. "I don't care! I don't care for basting Fornis, or Han-Glat or the whole damned lot of them. Now I know Zenka's alive I'm going to get him out if it's the last thing I do!"
There was a long pause. "Maia," said Sednil at last, standing up and coming over to her side, "would you think about marrying me? I've loved you, you know, ever since- ever since that morning in the temple. Do think about it seriously. A man of your own sort-someone you understand and who understands you. We could get down into Chalcon together before anyone missed you, and you'd be safe there. I know we might have a bit of a struggle to begin with, but I'd look after you and keep you safe-"
Turning, she laid a finger on his lips.
"I'm sorry, Sednil! I really am, because I like you and respect you. But it's not-well, it's just not what the gods say in my heart, that's all. Anyway, I told you before- Nennaunir loves you sincerely and you couldn't do better." She paused. "I must go downstairs now. Do you see-oh, careful! He might look up!-do you see that man waiting down there in the garden? I'm going to refuse Aim, too, even if it costs me my life; and I reckon-I reckon it probably will. Can you please wait up here until Ogma comes for you?" Embracing him, she kissed him warmly on the lips. "Dear Sednil, thank you for helping me: I'll never forget it. I know what I'm going to do now: I didn't before; I only thought I did. So that takes care of everything between us-except for this." And she handed him a small, plain wooden box..
"What's that, then?" he asked, in the dulled, heedless tone of someone upset and preoccupied.
"The other two thousand meld. Had you forgotten?"
Eud-Ecachlon's air certainly did not much resemble the conventional notion of a man in love. As Maia came up to him in the garden he smiled and took her hands; yet there was nothing particularly happy or eager in his manner, which seemed, indeed, abstracted; nor did he compliment her on her appearance or her dress. She knew him, of course, for an impassive man, not readily stirred- and anyway, she thought, 'twasn't as though she was going to say anything likely to make him start turning cartwheels. Yet all the same it nettled her-it affronted her sense of what was fitting-that he should to all appearances be so little on tenterhooks for her answer. She had left Sednil in tears, poor lad. From the look of things, she didn't reckon there were going to be many more shed round here.
Well, that'd certainly make it easier; but all the same it annoyed her.
He drank down his first goblet almost at once, like a man who needed it. She smiled, making a little pantomime of looking in and finding it empty. As she picked up the wine-jug to re-fill it, he asked her "Have you got any djebbah, Maia?"
"Djebbah? Yes, of course, if you want it. I'll call Ogma."
He drained his first tot of djebbah, too; and then sat down, looking rather more relaxed.
"I'm afraid you must have had a bit of a bad old morning, Euda. Everything all right?"
"Anything but, Maia; though I wouldn't say it to anyone except you."
"You mean the Council didn't go well?"
"How could it? The news is about as bad as it could well be."
"Why, what's wrong with the news, then?" asked Maia rather carelessly, as though the news were some sort of dish which Eud-Ecachlon had found not altogether to his liking.
He paused, seeming embarrassed, leaning forward as he tossed a handful of serrardoes one by one to a duck which had wandered up from the lakeside.
"Elvair-ka-Virrion," he said at length. "He's a friend of yours, isn't he?"
"Well, he's always been very nice to me. Yes, I'd say he was a friend."
"What would you say if I told yo
u he was a coward?"
"Well, if you really want to know, Euda, I dunno as I'd be so very much bothered. Men are always going on about fighting and cowards and victory and courage and-oh, all that stuff. Elvair's got nice manners and a kind heart-I know that much. Why; are you calling him a coward?"
"Well, it certainly looks that way, I'm afraid. And you may find that you've got to be bothered before long, whether you like it or not."
She could have hit him. "Well, my lord, seeing as you don't seem to have anything better to talk about, p'raps you'd better tell me."
But even this, to all appearances, went over his head. "Well, the news from Yelda is very bad. In fact, they're not going to give it out in the lower city at all. It seems that Elvair-ka-Virrion, after entirely failing to come to any
sort of grips with Erketlis in Chalcon, decided to fall back on Ikat Yeldashay for supplies and a general re-fit. He thought-and I think Kembri thought, too, though he hasn't said so-that once he was clear out of Chalcon, Erketlis would leave it at that and go home. But he didn't."
"Oh, didn't he?" asked Maia politely, since it seemed to be expected of her.
"No. He must be a very remarkable leader, that man," said Eud-Ecachlon. "He kept almost all his army together-apparently only a few went home-and made a forced march-something like fifty miles-through absolutely desperate country in less than two days. They got across the Thettit-Ikat road south of Elvair-ka-Virrion, so that he had to attack them."
"But I thought that was what Elvair wanted all along?" asked Maia.
"Well, so did he, but by that time his men were in pretty poor heart. Anyhow, the long and short of it is that he was beaten." He hesitated, and then went on, "But according to the officer who brought the news, he needn't have been. This man-Gel-Ethlin, his name is-made his report at the meeting this morning. He was so angry and upset that he couldn't contain himself-couldn't stick to what he'd been told to say. He couldn't even hold himself in on account of Kembri being there."
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