It was no more than nine or ten miles to Nybril, which they reached about noon. Unconsciously, Maia had entertained in her mind a picture of a place something like Meerzat-a little, riparian town, with regular trade and boats coming and going as on Lake Serrelind. The reality was disappointingly-indeed, dauntingly-different. Nybril Point, the rocky bluff rising above the confluence of the Flere and the Zhairgen, possessed no harbor remotely resembling Meerzat's sheltered, south-facing bay. Almost the sole advantage of the place lay in its virtual impregnability, a narrow triangle of which two sides were rivers. Long ago, some baron had built a castle there, but for many years past no baron had wished to live in so uninviting a spot, whose only mercantile value was as a stop-ping-off point for wool- and timber-laden rafts coming down the Flere from Yelda. (There was a depot on the upper Flere about ten miles south of Ikat.) In years to come Sarkid was to develop Nybril, constructing a mole and introducing ferries to either shore, but at this period of the empire's history it was still little more than a windy rock where a largely hereditary community of about two thousand souls were content to eke out a living in the knowledge that they were at least secure from pillage. Strangers, apart from the raft-men and occasional pedlars, were rare and not particularly welcome, since their reasons for coming were suspect.
The arrival of Tolis and his men, whose approach had of course been observed and reported an hour earlier, was watched by a fair-sized crowd from the walls on either side of the gates. His authority from Elleroth having been duly accepted, he was accorded a reserved welcome by the Elder, who nevertheless unbent slightly upon being told that the soldiers were to leave before nightfall.
A man appointed to act as guide escorted Maia, Zen-Ku-rel and Anda-Nokomis half-way down the steep, western slope of the headland to "TheWhite Roses," one of the two or three inns in the town, which was also a fishing-tackle store and a corn chandler's. It hardly measured up to "The Safe Moorings," and although Maia had never had any great
opinion of Frarnli, she was in no doubt that Frarnli would have been able to keep the place a deal cleaner, tackle store or no. She had not sat down for long on the little upstairs balcony before the warmth of her body brought a swarm of ticks out of the woodwork of her chair.
They were eating fish broth with black bread when Tolis came in to tell them, with aloof but self-conscious cor-rectnessr that he was now leaving. If he had been expecting any sort of protest he was disappointed. Zen-Kurel, having ordered up a bottle of wine to drink to Elleroth's fortunes and a speedy heldro victory (which Tolis could hardly decline) thanked him most courteously for all he had done for them and then insisted on accompanying him to the town gates to bid farewell to tryzatt Miarn and the men.
Anda-Nokomis went too but Maia, who felt angry, stayed behind. Having slept until the cool of the evening, she washed in a pail of tepid river water and then went out onto the balcony, taking with her a stool which she hoped would prove to be without inhabitants.
She had a spacious view of the confluence, and for the best part of an hour, with the slowly-setting sun full in her eyes, sat contemplating the scene below her, the converging rivers and the comings and goings on land and water. To her left the Here, boundary between Sarkid and Be-lishba, came flowing down from a blue distance of woods interspersed with cultivated, plain-like country. Far off, she could make out grazing flocks and smoke-crowned villages. A peaceful, fertile country it looked-Sarkid of the Sheaves, the hero Deparioth's land. On her right the upper Zhairgen came swirling round the base of the rocky promontory which cut off her view of the wilder country through which they had just come. She recalled how someone, at a party in Bekla, had once described Nybril to her as being like the stone in a cherry.
Yet it was the water below her-the water and what was on it-which most closely engaged her attention. As we know, Maia was knowledgeable about water, and what principally struck her was its unpleasant choppiness and general look of nasty, unmanageable turbulence. Where the two mainstreams met there was a clearly visible seam and an extensive area of broken water, in which she could see logs, large branches and other flotsam tossing and tumbling. Maia, like everyone else in the empire, was accustomed almost unconsciously to animate impressive places
and natural phenomena, just as she had animated the forest of Pura. Under that water, she felt unreflectingly, dwelt a spirit-demi-god or demon-harshly jealous of his realm, who brooked human beings thereon with an ill grace and hard sufferance.
Nybril, as she could now appreciate, was suitable for a river port only to the extent that from it, during the summer, merchandise could be sent downstream on rough, expendable rafts. The town had not grown up as a port but as a stronghold. The current was too strong for the place to be readily accessible except from upstream. It could never enjoy Meerzat's regular, easy comings and goings of boats. To be sure, there were a few small ones tied up along the little front below, but they did not look at all strongly built or fit for rough water, and she supposed that they were used only for fishing under the lee of the promontory and perhaps for direct crossings into Belishba at seasons, such as this, when the water was low and the current slack enough to permit of it.
The sinking sun turned the whole, receding expanse of the river-the broadest she had ever seen-to a dull crimson, glittering with quick streaks and flashes of gold. By contrast, the great cracks in the dried mud exposed along the banks showed pitch-black-deep, jagged crevices as broad as a man's hand. Even up here, high above the meeting-point of the two rivers, there seemed to be no breeze. The big, palmate leaves on the trees below her hung still as though waxen and nothing stirred the white dust that covered the steep zig-zag of the lane descending to the quay. I ought to feel at peace, she thought: there's no danger and there's a bed for the night. And yet I feel-well, I dunno: it's not right, somehow; it's not what t expected. I'll be glad when we've been able to get fixed up to go.
Hearing a movement behind her, she turned to see Anda-Nokomis standing in the entrance to the balcony. She smiled and gestured to him to join her, but though he came forward to sit beside her he did not smile in reply.
"Soldiers gone?" she asked.
"Oh, yes; some time ago now."
"I ought to have gone to thank them myself. Wish I had, now."
"You can't be blamed," he answered. "That young Tolis fellow should never have taken them away. He did it out
of pure ill-humor. They very nearly mutinied: they'd been looking forward to a night on the town-such as it is."
"You mean he resented what Zenka did last night?"
"I do."
"I wish I was still-well, what I used to be," she said. "I'd 'a seen as he heard some more about it 'fore I'd done."
"But if you were, it would never have happened, would it?"
She laughed, but once again he did not.
"You never laugh, Anda-Nokomis. I could make a beggar laugh easier 'n what I can you."
"I am a beggar, actually. I don't particularly like coming to ask you for money, but I've no alternative. The man insists on a down payment tonight. I don't know where he thinks we might disappear to, I'm sure. I nearly refused, but it would have been more trouble than it's worth."
"How much, Anda-Nokomis?"
"Three hundred meld."
"You'd best take three thousand, and give some of it to Zenka. Then you needn't either of you go short or be caught without. Come on, now-" as he hesitated-"that'll be best for all of us. You don't want to look silly or short of money in front of these people."
"But will that leave you with enough?"
"Did ought!"
"Are you sure?"
"I'll count it out in front of you if you like, Anda-Nokomis."
This time he did smile as he shook his head. She gave him the money and they were silent for a little while, watching the glow fade from the breadth of the river below.
"Did you resent-well, anything that happened last night?"
She looked round at him quickly. "Oh, no, Anda-Nokom
is, never!"
Yet evidently he was expecting her-waiting for her- to say more. She sought for something-anything-to smooth over the situation. He deserved all the kindness of which she was capable. "How could I resent it?"
"Why, as I said, because I've treated you badly and insulted you. I misjudged you, Maia."
"And I said, didn't I, as that was all over? No, Anda-Nokomis, of course I didn't resent you asking me to marry you. And I believe you when you say you love me. I reckon
we both understand each other better now than what we ever have, don't you?"
"And yet-I don't have to ask for my answer, do I? If I'd known earlier how you feel, I might not have spoken. But you'd succeeded in keeping your feelings very well concealed until the moment when you actually thought Zenka had gone to his death last night. I had no idea."
Would he ever make a ruler, she wondered; a man capable of perceiving so little?
"But Anda-Nokomis, at that rate why ever did you think I got him out of the gaol in Bekla?" t
"Why, you could have had several reasons: because you'd learned he'd been my closest friend in Dari-Paltesh, because you knew it would please Santil-ke-Erketlis, or simply because you weren't going to leave a man like that to the mercy of Forms."
That was the trouble about Anda-Nokomis, she thought. To himself he made perfectly good sense and you couldn't really argue with it. And it was all rubbish; it missed the only real point. Her feelings had been plain both to Zirek and to Clystis: probably to Meris, too. Fortunately, however, she didn't have to say this. While she was still wondering what she could say, he spoke again.
"But Maia, I'm afraid that at that rate it must be very disappointing for you."
"Unless," she said suddenly, as the idea came into her head "-I've only just thought-unless I wasn't altogether dreaming."
"Dreaming? When?"
"When he said about it being my turn to know what it felt like."
He frowned. "I'm sorry, I'm afraid I don't-'
She dropped on her knees beside him, put her arms round his neck and kissed him-the first time she had ever done so.
"My lord-my cousin-my dear friend: I'll tell you one thing, anyway-I've never been paid a greater compliment in my life, and I'm sure I never shall be again. I mean that with all my heart!"
"There's nothing more to be said, then?" he replied.
"There can't be: I'm so sorry."
"But Suba, Maia-your safety-"
She threw back her head and laughed as gaily as once she had in the fishing-net. "Occula used to say 'Stuff it!'
Look, Anda-Nokomis, we're here, the three of us, something like eighty miles from Katria and Suba, and no real idea yet how we're going to get there. You said-and don't think I don't feel it very kindly-that you wanted to relieve my anxiety. Surely the best way to relieve everybody's anxiety is to put all this by just for now, and stick to the job of getting ourselves down-river. 'Cos tell you the truth, I reckon 'tain't going to be all that easy. If you really want to do something for me, do that."
He was silent for what seemed a long time. "Perhaps you're right," he said at last. "We'll do as you say."
He stood up. "Where's Zenka, do you know?"
"No; I thought you did."
"Let's go and find him-have a drink-order a good supper-anything you like. And then tomorrow we'll see about getting a boat."
98: AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
When Maia woke the following morning-not quite so badly bitten as she had expected-it was to the certainty that the rains were imminent. Since "The White Roses" lay half-way down the western slope of Nybril, there was no view to the east even from its roof, but nevertheless she could sense the oppression, the piling-up of the clouds far away beyond Tonilda, beyond Yelda and Chalcon. Soon the wind would begin and the white mist would come rolling. Everyone would be glad of the rains, glad of the relief s the release; everyone but themselves, stranded on this rock in the Zhairgen. What if they were forced to spend Me-lekrilhere?
She said nothing of her apprehensions, however, either to Anda-Nokomis or to Zenka. It was plain that they had not seen the place and its limitations so clearly as she. They thought they were going to go out, much as they might go to a market, buy a boat and go down the river. Well, possibly they would: she wasn't going to start discouraging them or letting them think she was trying to show how clever she was. She'd come along and see what happened.
After breakfast they set out together, down the steep lane winding between hovels, stone walls and hedges of
gray-leaved keffa-kolma-the only thing that'll grow here, I suppose, thought Maia: back home we used to pull it up and burn it.
At length they emerged on to the quay-side. A few boats were out fishing. As she had expected, they were all anchored-or perhaps foul-anchored-well within the area of calmer water above the meeting-point of the two streams. One or two had masts, but not a sail was hoisted in the still air. None had either deck or cabin or was what you'd call, she thought, a traveling craft.
Anda-Nokomis, seeing a little group of men busy with tackle a short distance away, went up to them and, having greeted them politely, said he wanted to buy a boat stout enough to travel down the river. This, as Maia could have told him, was a mistake. She herself, if she'd been a man, would have passed the time of day, talked about the coming of the rains, asked a few questions about the fishing, repeated a rumor or two of the fighting in Lapan and said nothing at all about boats until someone-either that time or next time-got as far as asking what might have brought her to Nybril.
Oh, ah, they said. A boat? Well. One asked another to chuck him that length of line over there. Did he reckon it could do with a bit more grease rubbed in? Anda-Nokomis, interrupting, asked them whether they knew of anyone who would sell a boat. A boat? Well, now, they couldn't say. There wasn't all that many boats sold, really, not without a man was to die, and not always then. Boats- well, they nearly always got passed on, didn't they?
But might not someone sell one exceptionally, Anda-Nokomis persisted. Well, they hadn't just exactly heard of anything like that; not just lately they hadn't. Every man had his own, you see. Needed it for his living, didn't he?
What was the river like further down, inquired Zen-Kurel. They shook their heads. They didn't really know. None of them had ever been all that far down. It was the getting back, you see, wasn't it? Strong current-well, yes, everyone knew that. Very dangerous for a lot of the year, specially in the rains. Oh, yes, desperate in the rains. Well, and after all, what would anyone be wanting to go down there for? Quickest way to get yourself drowned. Someone else sucked on a hollow tooth, spat in the water and nodded in corroboration.
With them and with others Anda-Nokomis spent nearly
a couple of hours pursuing inquiries. No one was uncivil, though one or two seemed sullen; but always he found himself helpless in the face of that reticent, noncommittal evasiveness which is the reaction of most remote-dwelling people the world over to a brisk, direct approach from a stranger. Maia, who had grown up among such people, understood their feelings very well, though she could not have explained them in words. These people depended for a sense of security on doing what they and their fathers had always done in the only place they had ever known. That much they could feel sure of. Anything new or unusual probably had a catch. in it. They were prone to a kind of cryptic envy, too. This stranger, this gentleman was eager for a boat; they had only to do nothing in order to frustrate him. (And indeed after a time, although he retained his courtesy and self-possession, Anda-Nokomis's frustration began to show fairly clearly.) Towards the end of the morning and at about the tenth inquiry, Maia was left in little doubt that their fame was traveling before them.
Once Zen-Kurel, falling into conversation with a couple of youths who were playing wari with colored pebbles in the shade of a tavern wall, and finding them comparatively forthcoming in response to a few jokes and a little banter, asked whether it might not be possible to obtain a passage on one of the raft
s coming down the Here from Yelda. Why, yes, they answered. People often travelled down on the rafts, though usually from higher upstream. There wasn't all that many started from Nybril, though. Yes, it was the Here pretty well all the rafts came down: very few down the upper Zhairgen. Lapan and Tonilda didn't go for the same markets downstream-or so they'd always understood. But very likely the gentleman would know more about that than what they did.
But there wouldn't be any more rafts, coming down the Here now. It was the rains, you see, as'd be starting any day. Oh, yes, both the rivers got fair desperate during Melekril. They'd break any raft to bits like you'd break an egg in a pan. 'Twas like the wrath of Cran to see the water going past the rock. You couldn't sleep in your bed at night for the roaring.
By this time Maia was beginning to feel embarrassed and ill-at-ease. She had grasped the situation clearly enough and disliked looking conspicuous and-she suspected- silly. She could imagine how she herself and Kelsi, only a
year or two back, would have stood giggling to watch Anda-Nokomis striding up and down like a pair of shears. Want the truth, this just wasn't a place where boats were to be bought. Any man who made a boat made it for himself; and any family who owned a boat used it and needed it. If anyone was to buy a boat in Nybril, it would be an altogether exceptional transaction, involving probably a few days of preliminary drinking and talk to get a man out of his shell, followed by suggestion, negotiation and bargaining. Zenka, with a little coaching, might be the man for it, but Anda-Nokomis certainly wasn't.
Acting on impulse-well, what the hell, she said to herself, if she didn't need a drink who did and anyway she was past caring about convention-she unobtrusively left Zen-Kurel (Anda-Nokomis was about two hundred yards away, pursuing some line of his own) and went quickly round the corner to the door of the tavern. Now that she was able to view it up and down, it looked a good deal more inviting than one would have expected. It was called "The Butt Inn" and had a sign depicting, on one side, a goat impelling a customer through the door. On the other side, inevitably, were Shakkarn and Lespa, though portrayed quite decently and even rather attractively, considering that this was Nybril. Both the door, which was standing open, and the shutters had plainly been repainted quite recently and there were boxes of flowers on the window-sills. One or two people were sitting outside on benches. She couldn't hear anything in the way of rowdy noise or low company from inside, and as she paused in the doorway all she could smell was clean sand and baking bread. Nice surprise, she thought: well, here goes.
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