Maia

by Richard Adams

  there's any water we could wash in, if it's not too much trouble?"

  The guard-quarters boasted a small, brick-floored bathhouse, with a piped supply from the Monju Brook-the outfall stream of the lake called the Barb. Here the girls stripped and sluiced each other down. When Zuno reappeared a quarter of an hour later they were both feeling- and looking-in much better shape; Occula in her orange metlan and Maia in the powder-blue robe, with a scarlet trepsis bloom, given her by one of the soldiers, stuck behind her ear. The guard-commander, having civilly but firmly refused a tip from Zuno, helped the girls into the hired jekzha, which thereupon set off, following the two Deelguy down Masons Street towards the Kharjiz.

  Simply to be sitting down, moving effortlessly along, instead of trudging in the heat and dust, was enough to fill Maia with a delightful sense of luxury. The pleasure- which she had very seldom known before-of being carried on wheels, and the swift succession of sights and sounds pressing from all directions upon her fatigued senses, were bemusing, and imparted to her surroundings a rather dreamlike quality. She had never seen so many, and such different kinds of people, all intent upon their various affairs. She watched two men-evidently, from their uniform clothes, some kind of public servants-laying the dust in the street by sprinkling water from a metal tank on wheels; a hawker selling eggs and bread; an old woman haggling with a stall-keeper over a scale-full of brillions; two lads who were having difficulty in carrying a rolled-up carpet through the crowds; a man whose shop was itself a huge cage, full of brilliant-plumaged birds; a hard-faced, painted girl, little older than herself, standing watchfully on a corner with a studied air of being at a loose end; and a leather-aproned harness-maker at his bench, surrounded by his wares as he plied his heavy needle. The air was full of all manner of smells, some familiar, others entirely unknown to her-incense drifting through an open door at the top of a flight of stone steps; a medley of spicy odors from an open-fronted cookshop, inside which charcoal braziers were glowing in a shady, welcoming gloom; and, again and again, the languorous, citrous fragrances of flowers and blossoming shrubs-big, glowing blooms of kinds she had never seen-thriving in well-watered beds beside the street and allaying with their greenery the oppression of summer's

  end. All about her-so that she had to raise her voice even to talk to Occula beside her-rang the multifoliate clamor of the city; the crying of wares, the shouting of children at play, the gabbling of bargainers and quarrellers, the tappings and hammerings peculiar to tinkers, carpenters, smiths, cobblers, masons, wheelwrights. Once, as the jek-zha went by, she caught for a few moments the voice of someone singing a Tonildan ballad she recognized. At a crossing, a scarlet-liveried slave strode across their front, staff in hand, crying "Make way! Make way!", followed by a curtained litter adorned, behind and before, with the cognizance of a crowned leopard. Across the roof-tops sounded from the upper city the wavering, gong-like notes of copper bells.

  Most of all, Maia was amazed by the size and grandeur of the buildings. Bekla, growing up upon a natural site for a city, with a virtually impregnable hilltop citadel, watered by a lake and standing at the convergence of five roads traversing a wide plain, had been built almost entirely from the stone quarries of Mount Crandor. Time out of mind it had been renowned for its builders, masons and stone-carvers. Almost every house, from the Palace of the Barons to the lodgings for the itinerant herdsmen, was of stone. The market-colonnades, the temples, the graceful towers and other public buildings were of a beauty and magnificence unparalleled in any other city throughout the empire. The very fact that the old ceremonial name, Bekla-lo-Senguel-Cerith ("The Garden of Dancing Stone"), was still commonly used in poems, songs and ballads testified to the universal pride and veneration felt for the capital.

  All this Maia, like everyone else, had heard from infancy. But there is a world of difference between hearing tell and seeing for oneself. Staring up at rows of decorated corbels supporting overhanging upper stories, at innumerable foliate chamfers and casement moldings, at delicate interpenetrations of stone executed with almost incredible craftsmanship and skill, the spontaneous Maia, hitherto entirely ignorant of such things, was entranced by what seemed to her little short of a miracle-of hundreds of miracles. How could stone be made to float like lilies, curl like waves, drift like clouds? Who had raised these stones, piling them up to stand firm, one upon another, far above the heads of mortals walking safe and unconcerned below; and then, not content with that, carved them

  into flowers and foliage, snarling beasts, armed men, naked girls?

  Why, 'tis past all believing! she thought. If ever I see Tharrin again, reckon I'll be the one as does the talking. Occula might be right after all-if only things turn out lucky, I could find myself better off than ever I was back home. She sighed. All the same, I'd like to see the old lake again, and have a swim under the falls, that I would.

  Their progress was slow, for as the afternoon cooled the streets grew ever more busy. Several times their jekzha was forced to a halt and Zuno, ahead, was obliged to stop and wait until they could catch him up. Their journey, though only a little over three-quarters of a mile, lasted a full half-hour.

  Amid all the excitement and activity, Occula had entirely recovered her spirits, and was highly tickled by the prospect of arriving at their destination on wheels rather than on foot. Furthermore, it was flattering to have beside her the ingenuous Maia, full of wonder and curiosity and hanging upon her every word. For a time she was content simply to rest her feet on the rail in front of them and reply to Maia's questions. Soon, however, her natural energy and unsleeping sense of self-interest began to take over.

  "Come on, banzi," she said, putting an arm round Maia's shoulders and impelling her forward on to the edge of the seat. "Bugger the bells, and the carvin' too! They woan' do anythin' for you! You've got to show off a bit, my lass! This is no time to be starin' round at other people and forgettin' all about yourself. They're the ones who've got to be doin' the starin'. Our job's to put on some style!"

  "Whatever for?" asked Maia. "We're going to this Lal-loc man, aren't we?"

  "Yes, but you never know who may happen to see you and take a fancy: that's the way a good shearna works- never misses casual opportunities. Lean forward, pull your dress down a bit. Get those deldas out-no, right down to the strawberries, come on-"

  "Here, steady on!" Maia turned scarlet as the blac' girl pulled down her bodice.

  "That Ortelgan stiff was right-blushin' does suit you," replied Occula. "I doan' know about the men, banzi, but I could eat you up."

  "Hey, girls, any room for a little one?" called a young

  fellow in a carter's smock and leggings, cracking his whip to attract their attention.

  "I like big ones," answered Occula, holding her hands up about a foot apart.

  "And I like willing ones," said the carter. "I like that black skin of yours, too. Where d'you come from, lass?"

  "The finest country in the world," replied Occula.

  "Then what are you doing here?"

  "Well, where I come from, you see, the girls give so much pleasure that the men have all died of it, so I've had to look elsewhere."

  "Fancy that, now!" said the carter. "And who's your pretty friend?"

  "One you can' afford," answered Occula.

  "By Lespa, and I reckon that's true enough for now!" called the young fellow after them, as the jekzha began to move on. "Might see you again one day, though. Where you going?"

  "Time you've made your fortune," replied Occula, "we'll be so famous you woan' have any trouble findin' us!"

  At the western end of Masons Street the jekzha turned left into the foot of Storks Hill, but the girls had scarcely time to glimpse, behind them, the breath-taking Tamarrik Gate before they turned again, this time to the right, down the broad thoroughfare of the Kharjiz and so oh into the Slave Market.

  Since this was not a market day the big square was not crowded. A gang of municipal slaves was at work clearing and sweeping
, while two masons were repairing one of the raised sale platforms on the north side. Here, too, all was built of stone and beautified with flowers-beds of golden lilies and scarlet askinnias dividing the various rostra and barracoons one from another. Each roofed and pillared rostrum was decorated with a carved relief, depicting scenes appropriate to the kind of slaves sold on it. This was recent work, commissioned by Queen Forms herself-a great promoter of the slave trade.

  "Oh, look at the men fighting!" cried Maia, pointing at a battle scene which ran down one entire side of a rostrum forty feet long.

  "That must be where they sell the soldiers," replied Occula.

  "They sell soldiers?" Maia was puzzled.

  "Well, some kinds, yes," answered the black girl. "Pris-

  oners taken in war-you know, Katrians and Terries-fellows from Terekenalt-if they're not badly wounded or disabled, and if no one ransoms them, they're often sold. They wouldn' be any good for the regular army, you see-not former enemy wouldn'-but provincial barons buy them for their household companies, and often people from other countries buy them, too. The further off a man comes from, the more useful he is to a baron's local bunch of bastards, you see."

  "Oh, and that platform there, look! That must be for the roadmakers, I suppose. What wonderful pictures! I've never seen anything like them!"

  In fact, of course, Maia had never seen any graphic or sculptural art whatever, except for crude peasant work at Meerzat and round about: and although, often, that was not lacking in a certain power and beauty, it had not prepared her for the art of such great Beklan craftsmen as Fleitil, Sandruhlet and those others whose names, still known today, can only make us regret that virtually all their work is lost to us for ever. Gazing at Sandruhlet's frieze-of which only a fragment survives-of the pioneer gang driving the Gelt road into the foothills, all newly painted in brilliant, stylized colors intensifying its half-barbaric impact, Maia felt herself actually tingling at the sight of the straining, muscular young men, the rain glistening on their half-naked bodies as they heaved on the sledge-ropes.

  "Clever work, isn' it?" said Occula. "You've got to admit these Beklans do know how to slice up a bit of stone. The whole city's full of that sort of thing. I remember Zai took me to the upper city once, to see the Barons' Palace close to. We couldn' go into the Palace, of course, but I've nevef forgotten it. There's a carved-"

  "Oh-!" interrupted Maia suddenly, staring and putting a hand up to her mouth in an involuntary, startled gesture. Turning her head away, she looked at Occula in confusion, but then, despite herself, looked back again. "What- whatever-?"

  Occula chuckled. "That's where they sell the girls. I've never seen it before, but someone in Thettit told me the carvers spent four years on that. They did rather let themselves go, didn' they? All good for trade, banzi, you know. Didn' leave much to the imagination, did they?"

  "Oh, and three or four together, look-and there-" Maia became speechless. Then "And right out in the open,

  where everyone can see-you'd wonder who ever thought of such things, wouldn't you?"

  "Fellows who think of nothin' else, that's who," said Occula, enjoying her confusion. "It just shows you, doesn' it, what a lot of silly sods there are who've got it on the brain? See what I mean? With a bit of luck we can' go wrong. But we've got to be sharp, banzi. What it comes down to is that they want figs for nothin', but somehow or other we've got to sell figs dear. And what that comes down to, really, is bein' better than the competition."

  "But will we have to-you know-stand up there with no clothes on-?"

  The black girl shook her head. "Shouldn' think so. I told you, Lalloc said to Domris he'd sell me privately, into a wealthy household. Of course I can' tell them straight out that where I go you're comin' too. You're worth a lot of money-so am I-and even a rich man who buys one girl may not be able to afford two-or not two at once. But you can be sure of one thing: Lalloc'll be out to sell you to his own best advantage, whatever that is; and I doan' think a girl like you'll be thrown in with a lot of others."

  As the jekzha was about to leave the market and enter the long slope of the Khalkoornil-the Street of Leaves- it was once again forced to a halt by a heavy wagon loaded with a single block of stone, which was coming slowly up the hill towards them. This was surrounded by a noisy crowd, many of whom were helping the carters and their bullocks to drag and push it the final few yards uphill into the Slave Market.

  "Oh, look, Occula, it's carved in the shape of a woman, d'you see? Wonder where they're taking it?"

  "That's the new statue of Airtha," said their jekzha-man over his shoulder. "Fleitil and his lads have been working on it all summer up in the quarries. Only the big statues, they always start them up there and then finish them when they've been brought down. There's hundreds been waiting down at the Gate of Lilies to give them a hand. They reckon that's lucky, see, to touch it as it comes in."

  "Where's it to go?" asked Occula.

  "Outside the Temple of Cran. That's U-Fleitil, look, just over there; see him?"

  Maia looked over the heads of the crowd towards where

  the man was pointing. Before she could pick out Fleitil, however, she became aware of someone else-a young man standing quite close by on the opposite side of the road.

  He was certainly of striking appearance. Taking no part in the turmoil round the wagon, he was leaning, with a relaxed yet alert air, against the doorpost of a wine shop, eating grapes-or at any rate holding a bunch in one hand- and staring directly at her. Everything about him suggested self-confidence, wealth and aristocracy. He was tall, with long, dark hair and a short, neatly-trimmed beard; and not so much handsome in any conventional way as having an aspect and air of gallantry which made one forget to consider whether he was or not. He was wearing a close-fitting abshay of rose-colored silk, with a silver belt at the waist. Its puffed sleeves, the inverted pleats of which were inset with silver, were gathered a little below the elbow. Both this and his pale-yellow, damasked breeches were overspread with small, semiprecious stones, lustrous and blue-green in color. His sword was sheathed in a scabbard jewelled with larger stones of the same sort, while slung at his back, on a crimson-tasselled cord, was a large hat adorned with colored plumes of red and blue. On his left shoulder, worked in silver thread, was the cognizance of a leopard.

  Despite his elegance and flamboyant dress, his bearing suggested not so much the fop as the courtier and nobleman capable of turning soldier at need. He was plainly quite unconcerned to conceal his interest in Maia. She, abashed and self-conscious, looked quickly away, pulling up the bodice which Occula had disarranged. Yet when she looked round it was only to meet once more the young man's unwavering gaze.

  "Smile, you fool," whispered Occula out of the side of her mouth.

  Maia, feeling as awkward as a plowboy called to the side of a lady's carriage to tell her the way, tried to smile but found she seemed to have lost the trick. However, at this moment the young man smiled at her, tossed his grapes into the lap of a near-by beggar and strolled across the street, the crowd seeming to part before him as undergrowth parts before a hound on the scent.

  Putting one hand on the rail at the girls' feet and looking up at Maia with an air expressive of admiration both given

  and received (as though to say "It's pleasant to be beautiful-don't you agree?"), he said, "To my own great surprise, I don't seem to know your name. Still, I dare say you can put that right for me, can't you?"

  "Oh-sir-I-that's to say-"

  Maia's confusion was so clearly unfeigned that the young man, for a moment at all events, appeared to lose his own self-possession. With a slightly puzzled look he said, "I hope I've not embarrassed you or made a mistake. But if you're not shearnas-and very pretty ones at that-why are you riding through the lower city in an open jekzha, with no escort?"

  "We're here from Thettit-Tonilda, sir," said Occula, smiling at him and leaning forward to put her hand for a moment on his, "with a recommendation to U-Lalloc."

/>   "Oh, I see," said the young man, with an air of disappointment. "You mean he's going to sell you?"

  "I'm very sorry; I'm afraid not, sir," answered Occula, as though he had made a request which she was obliged to decline with regret. "We're already promised to a noble house."

  "I'm not at all surprised to hear it," said the young man. "Well, perhaps we may meet again. If that-er-noble house-"he smiled, giving an ironical, emphasis to the words-"should ever wish to part with you, perhaps you'll contrive to let me know, will you?"

  With this he pressed a kiss on Maia's bare foot, turned on his heel and was gone across the market-place, his feathered hat tossing on his shoulders.

  As the jekzha moved on, neither girl spoke for a minute or two. Then Maia, still bewildered by the encounter, said "But he never told us who he was."

  "You're supposed to know who he is," answered Occula. "It wouldn' occur to him that you didn'. He's a Leopard, obviously."

  "Do you know?"

  "No, 'course I doan'. But it might be a good idea to find out, doan' you think?"

  "Oh, I felt so terrible-"

  "You doan' know your own strength, banzi, that's your trouble," said the black girl, smacking at a fly on her forearm. "You did fine. He woan' forget us in a hurry. Cran! I'm hungry, aren't you? Surely it can' be much further now."

  In fact it was no distance at all. Hardly had they passed, on their right, the dark column of the Tower of Leaves, with its foliated, circular balcony projecting a hundred feet above their heads, when Zuno's jekzha turned off under a low stone arch. Following him, they found themselves in a narrow lane, which made a turn and opened into a paved courtyard. Here Zuno had already got down, and motioned to them to do the same. Together they unloaded Occula's box and stood waiting while he settled with the jekzha-man. His raised-eyebrow technique was no less effective than it had been with the footpads. After a short conversation, and assuming a slightly pained manner, he murmured, "Nonsense, my good man; you're well paid," walked across to a door on the courtyard's further side and unlocked it with a key taken from his pocket.