They passed the Temple of Cran and the Tamarrik Gate, and so came at last to the Blue Gate and the walled precinct outside. Here there was barely time for Maia's tearful thanks and farewells, and the bestowing on her of Nasada's blessing, before the captain of the caravan-a well-known mercenary employed by the merchants' guild of Kabin- came forward personally to conduct the wise man from Suba to his place in the leading ox-cart (in those further back, road dust was apt to be troublesome, especially at this time of year), after which he was prompt to obey his orders from Eud-Ecachlon to get off punctually and leave the city approaches clear for the military.
Maia returned past that same guard-room where once the soldiers had taken pity on her and Occula. Then, on impulse, she told the men to turn left, up Leather-Workers Street and so into the Caravan Market. Her officer friend had certainly done wonders for their frame of mind, for they obeyed her without a murmur.
All the efforts of the municipal slaves to keep sprinkling the sandy expanse of the Caravan Market had not succeeded in keeping down a thin haze of glittering dust, through which the impressed men were moving half-heartedly to their various rallying points. Here they stood coughing, many with rags or cloths held over their faces.
There was a general atmosphere of uncertainty and irresolution; less, perhaps, of unwilling or faint-hearted men than of men at a loss, genuinely ignorant of what was required of them. Maia had not gone half-way along the colonnade bordering the north side of the market before it became clear enough to her that half these conscripts were peasant villagers who had almost certainly never been ten miles from their homes in their lives. Many looked nervous and a few actually frightened, simply of their imposing surroundings. Some were joking and sky-larking to keep up their spirits, others sitting on the ground as glum and silent as beasts in market-pens; cowed by home-sickness, by fear of the future and the uncertainty of everything around. Among them, contrasting sharply, walked brisk, uniformed tryzatts of the Beklan regiment, who had evidently been given the task of organizing them into squads. This they had apparently decided to set about by dividing them into spearmen, swordsmen, bowmen and so on, irrespective of where they had come from. Maia watched with pity-indeed, she came within an ace of intervening;- as a tryzatt almost forcibly separated a simple-looking lad with a sword from another-obviously his mate and probably the only person in the whole crowd whom he knew- carrying a spear, and led him away across the market to join a group of strangers. She could see the boy, as he looked back over his shoulder, trembling and almost weeping. A little farther on, an officer had succeeded in forming thirty or forty men into a ragged line. Having looked them over, he called out three, seemingly more or less at random, and, conferring upon them then and there the rank of sub-tryzatt, told them that they were now in charge of the rest and would be answerable for them. At every egress from the market a regular soldier had been posted to discourage the inclinations of anyone who might be so lacking in public spirit as to be tempted to melt away.
Even Maia could see that these were not what anyone in his senses could call a likely lot. She wondered what kind of men Santil-ke-Erketlis had, and in what spirit they had carried out their forced march and fought their battle at the end of it. Obviously they must have had every confidence in their leader and believed that what they were being required to do would turn out to their own advantage. Had any of these men around her, she wondered, any real idea of what they were being compelled to fight
for? They comprised, between them, a very fair sample of the sort of bumpkins the Leopards had oppressed by restricting the selling prices of cattle, corn and timber. Who ought to know if not she?
The jekzha had just come opposite "The Green Grove" (which was shut, no doubt on Eud-Ecachlon's orders) when in the colonnade Maia recognized Milvushina's maid Lok-ris. Lokris had set her back against one of the square columns and was doing her best to ward off two rough-looking men who were plainly pestering her-more for their amusement, it seemed, than with any real expectation of obtaining her favors. As she attempted a cuff at one of them, he dodged to one side, sniggering, while the other pulled at the shoulder of her robe.
Maia got down and went across to them.
"Do you know who I am?" she said coldly, looking from one to the other.
Plainly they did not know what to make of her youth, her Tonildan accent, the richness of her clothes and the authority and confidence of her manner. They stood looking back at her with stupid, hesitant grins of mingled bravado and uncertainty.
"Where do you come from?" she asked one of them sharply.
"Kabin-if it's any business of yours, dearie."
Neither was armed, but they could only, she thought, be part of the levy. She called to a passing tryzatt, who at once came over and saluted her.
"You know me, don't you?"
"Yes, of course, saiyett."
"These two men have been molesting my servant."
The tryzatt instantly felled one of the men with a blow to the stomach, spun the other round by his jerkin and slapped his face.
"Just leave them to me, saiyett: I'm sorry you've had the bother. Kabin's sent us up some right ones this time, and that's a fact."
Maia took Lokris by the arm, led her back to her jekzha, helped her in and told the men to go on.
After a few words of sympathy from her and thanks from Lokris, she asked, "But how do you come to be down here, Lokris? Whatever brought you into the market, anyway, at a time like this?"
Lokris explained that she had been fetching a fresh supply of medicine for Milvushina.
"The doctor says she has to take it regularly, saiyett, but what with one thing and another I never noticed until last night that we were clean out. Of course I came straight down this morning, but the 'pothecary who's always made it up for her, his shop's shut and I couldn't make anyone hear. So I came on to this other man I know in the colonnade and simply went on knocking until he let me in."
"Well done!" said Maia. "Did you get it?"
"Oh, yes, thank you, saiyett. I'm very glad indeed for your help and for the lift back, too. To tell you the truth, I think the sooner I'm back the better."
"Nothing wrong, I hope?" asked Maia quickly.
Lokris lowered her voice, while at the same time her manner underwent a subtle change from that of a servant speaking to a lady to that of woman speaking to a woman.
"Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion's back," she said. "Did you know?"
"No, I didn't," answered Maia. "When?"
"Yesterday morning," said Lokris. "There was another officer with him, Captain Shend-Lador, and his own soldier-servant, and that was all. Seems they'd left the army in Lapan and been traveling four days, just the three of them. They came in by the Red Gate."
"The Red Gate?" asked Maia in amazement.
The Red Gate into the citadel, on the summit of Mount Crandor, was a low arch in the south wall of the city, through the whole width of which flowed a swift brook, the Daulis. The bed had been artificially deepened, making it impassable except to those who knew the subaqueous windings of a narrow causeway of living rock left standing about two feet below the surface. Shend-Lador, of course, as the son of the citadel commander, would be familiar with these.
"He didn't want-or else he didn't dare-to come through the city, you see," said Lokris. "His servant went round by the Peacock Gate and told the Lord General that was he waiting up by the falls-the White Girls. So then a mesage was sent up to the citadel to open the Vent for them."
"How is Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion?" asked Maia.
Lokris looked round at her quickly, as though astonished to be asked and not immediately knowing how to reply.
After a moment she took refuge in a return to formality.
"What can I tell you, saiyett? He's taking it very badly, but of course that's no more than one would expect."
"Taking it badly?"
Lokris perceived that in certain respects the Serrelinda was still ingenuous.
"Saiyett, I don't k
now, of course, how much you've heard, but the truth is that Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion is as good as ruined. People are saying that he mismanaged the campaign in Chalcon so badly that a great many lives were lost that needn't have been. If it's true, {hat's bad, of course, but it's not the worst of it for his reputation. The battle they lost-everyone says he actually ran away, and him supposed to be commander-in-chief. The captains deposed him and sent him home. And no one would even go along with him-only Captain Shend-Lador."
"Is the Lord General very much upset?" asked Maia.
"The Lord General refused to see him," answered Lokris. "He left to take over the command in Lapan this morning, and I heard that he meant to tell the army that Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion was no longer his son and he was going to disinherit him."
Maia's immediate feelings, as she recalled Elvair-ka-Virrion's invariable courtesy to the slave-girl she had once been and his kindness and help over the auction at the barrarz, were of indignation.
"I don't see as they've any call-" she was beginning, when their conversation was interrupted.
The jekzha-men had succeeded, with a good deal of difficulty, in getting round the north and part of the west side of the market-place. Near the Bronze Scales the Bek-lan regiment were drawn up, their ordered ranks and uniform breastplates forming an island of trim regularity in the surrounding commotion. The officers were standing together at one side, and Maia recognized three or four, including the commander, Kerith-a-Thrain, a soldier of exceptional prestige and distinction. They were all looking in one direction and, following their gaze, she saw the High Baron Durakkon himself, fully accoutred and accompanied by two or three aides, approaching from the Street of the Armourers. This, of course, was the direction in which she herself was going. The crowd had fallen back on either side, but after a moment's consideration Maia
thought it best simply to tell her jekzha-men to halt where they were until the High Baron had passed.
As he drew level with the jekzha, however, Durakkoc suddenly stopped and turned towards her. For an instant she thought that he was going to rebuke her. Then she saw that he was smiling. A moment later he strode across the intervening space between them, his aides following a yard or so behind.
"Maia!" he said, seeming as oblivious of their suround-ings as though Ogma had just shown him into her parlor. "I'm very glad to see you here! Have you come to watch us march out?"
Blushing, she scrambled down, raised her palm to her forehead and was about to fall on one knee when he took her hands in his own. He said no more, however, apparently waiting for her to answer his question.
"I've just come back from taking U-Nasada down to the Blue Gate, my lord. He's going to Quiso-to see the Tu-ginda."
"You're lucky to have a friend like that," replied Du-rakkon. "He's a wise man; and a good man, too. I only wish we'd-" He broke off. "Have you still got your diamonds?"
"Why, yes, my lord, of course. Ask me in fifty years, I'll still be saying yes to that!"
"Well, I may not have the chance: but I'm glad you like them. You deserved them."
How sad he looked, she thought: how old and gaunt and wretched! Yet it wasn't because he was afraid; she could tell that. He had, rather, an air of deep grief and resignation. It had never before occurred to her that the High Baron might have troubles like everyone else.
"I wish you luck, my lord, and the favor of the gods. Are you going to fight Santil-ke-Erketlis?"
He smiled. "No, General Kembri's doing that. We have to fight Queen Fornis, I'm afraid. A pity, isn't it?"
He was talking down to her, but she didn't mind. To her, now, he seemed just a nice old man. He'd taken a fancy to her-people often did-and, being a great lord, was indulging that fancy for a few minutes before setting out on his dismal business.
"My lord! Oh, I know how much you must have to think about just now, but can I-can I make a request of you, seeing as you've been so kind as to stop and speak to me?"
"What is it?"
"It's about-it's about the hostages, my lord. Them as Queen Forms has got, I mean."
"The hostages?" His manner became suddenly grave and,tense. "What about the hostages?"
"One of the Katrian officers, my lord; his name's Zen-Kurel. He was-he was kind to me while I was in Suba. If-if you can only save him-"
"Maia, we're going to save every one of the hostages if we can. No one's got better reason than I have, I assure you."
As her brimming eyes met his, she felt sure that he had guessed her secret. Yet intuitively she knew that he didn't regard her as a traitor for falling in love with an enemy of Bekla. In some strange way the two of them were accomplices: in his heart also there lay something-whatever it might be-which meant far more to him than the Leopards and his public position.
"I must be going now, Maia. Zen-Kurel of Katria; I'll remember that name. But will you grant me a request, too?" He was smiling again. Was this a joke? How should she answer?
"Why, yes, my lord; of course."
"They call you 'the luck of the city,' you know. The gods love you; everyone knows that. Perhaps you'll be so gracious as to give me a keepsake, for luck. I rather think we may be going to need all the luck we can get."
Gran alive! Whatever had she got with her that was fit to give to the High Baron? To accompany Nasada she had dressed very simply, without jewels, for he was always so plainly dressed himself. She felt at a complete loss. Then, suddenly, she remembered King Karnat and the golden lilies: that had worked all right.
"I'll be honored, my lord."
Deliberately, the Serrelinda stepped forward, drew the High Baron of Bekla's dagger from its sheath and with it cut off a thick curl from the golden mass round her shoulders. She replaced the dagger, knelt to kiss his hand and at the same time closed it on the curl. Then she stood up, raised her palm and climbed back into her jekzha. Thus was born another of the legends told of her long afterwards.
Lokris was already gone: presumably, not knowing how long the Serrelinda and the High Baron might stay talking,
she had decided that she might, get back quicker on foot. Maia remained where she was, watching until the Beklan regiment had formed columns and left the market-place. For longer than fifty years, in the event, she remembered how she had seen the High Baron march out to die. She must have been the last woman he ever spoke to-except for one.
80: SHEND-LADOR'S STORY
"-And that was the most shameful thing I've ever seen," said Shend-Lador.
It was the third night after the departure of Durakkon to westward and of the levies to Kembri in Lapan. Bekla seemed dulled and muted. Trade had declined, and all the lower city bustle that went with it. Hospitality and entertainment had dwindled too. Maia had scarcely been out, except to visit Nennaunir, whom she found in low spirits because Sednil had not been able to escape the levy.
It was strange to see the Peacock Wall sentinelled by old watchmen instead of soldiers; and strange, too, to see relays of porters filing up to the citadel laden with provisions. It was as though the city were holding its breath, listening and waiting; and this tension was heightened by the heat of late summer.
"This is no season for campaigning, you know, saiyett," Jarvil-an old soldier-had remarked to Maia. "No good'll come of it, you see."
"But it's the same for both sides," she answered.
"Oh, maybe, saiyet, maybe; but all the same, no good'll come of it, either way. It's not the right thing for men to be out campaigning, not at harvest-time."
Unnatural, she thought; unpropitious, unlucky. Yet still the comet burned: she was still safe. If only there had been a friend to talk to, confide in! If only there were some news!
Shend-Lador, therefore, when he came, she had received most gladly. When Ogma entered to announce him, she had been struggling once again with "The Deeds of Deparioth." She laid the scroll aside and jumped up eagerly.
He was leaner and browner, and his clothes were more carelessly worn than in the old days. Yet he was the sort
&nbs
p; of uncomplicated young man who, without particularly considering the matter, holds it virtually a point of honor always to behave in a light-hearted, cheerful manner. He would have been ashamed for anyone ever to see him looking gloomy, except perhaps at a funeral or some similar occasion. No doubt he had joked his way through the whole Chalcon campaign and done his best to keep his men's spirits up through everything.
"I hope you're as glad to see me, Maia, as I am to see you," he said, as soon as they had sat down. "Well, let's say almost as glad, since you've got all the advantages."
"I couldn't have hoped to see anyone better," she answered.
"No swimming in the Barb tonight, then?" he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Too shallow for high diving now, is it?"
"I will if you will," she answered mischievously, pouring his wine.
"Why," said he, "you don't think I'd put you to the trouble of saving my life twice, surely? It wasn't worth saving once, you know. All the same, I'm glad you did it. Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here now, would I, drinking Yeldashay with the Serrelinda?"
He had a charming aptitude for paying compliments with every appearance of sincerity and conviction. He admired her dress, praised the wine, was enchanted by the cabinet of fishes and insisted on Ogma accepting ten meld. He told a bawdy joke which was really funny, making Maia roar with laughter and slap his hand in mock reproof. For some time longer they talked of trivial things, both aware that they were circling a whirlpool whose center they could not, ultimately, avoid.
It was when he got up and crossed the room to fetch a box of nut thrilsa which he had brought as a present, that she first noticed that he was limping.
"What is it?" she asked, pointing. "Have you been wounded?"
Maia Page 109