Maia

by Richard Adams

  Having arrived, somewhat overawed, at the Barons' Palace, she was received with few words by a grave, elderly saiyett and conducted to a room high up on the south wall, below the Lily Tower. A fair-haired Yeldashay lad, who had just finished making up the stove, bowed to her and slipped out, leaving her alone.

  She wondered whether she should undress at once or wait until Randronoth came to join her. In view of his pleasure in clothes, she decided to wait. Anyhow, she reflected, it would be next to impossible to get out of this dress without someone else's help; and he would no doubt enjoy being the helper.

  The rain billowed on outside. Through the window she could see the sodden slopes of Crandor rising to the stone quarries and the citadel-a bleak, hazy solitude, indistinct behind the drifting curtain of rain. How nice, she thought, to be paid for doing what you like! The prospect of an afternoon spent with a warm, good-humored admirer, a sound basting or two and a nice, fat lygol to take home afterwards, was by no means unpleasant. Turning away from the window, she sat down on a bench in front of the stove and held out her hands to the blaze.

  The door opened, a deep voice outside spoke a word of dismissal to someone in the corridor, and a moment later not Randronoth, but Kembri entered the room. Taken by surprise, Maia stood up in confusion, raising her palm to her forehead.

  "My lord, I-I wasn't-"

  "Sit down," said the Lord General unsmilingly. Maia obeyed, the heavy folds of her skirt spreading about her.

  "You weren't expecting me?" he asked.

  "No, my lord; that I wasn't. Only they told me, see, as the governor of Lapan-"

  "It was I, not Randronoth, who had you brought to the Palace. Now understand this, Maia. No one's to know that you've seen me-no one at all, do you understand? The purpose of that message was simply to mislead the High Counselor's household. Your saiyett's not to know that you've seen me. You'll be given a lygol and you'll say that the governor of Lapan gave it to you."

  After a moment he added, with a grim smile, "You won't even have to work for it: I merely want to talk to you."

  Her pride aroused, the Tonildan urchin peeped out. " 'Twouldn't be no trouble to me, my lord-" but clearly he was in no mood for such sallies. Silencing her with a gesture, he sat down on the opposite side of the stove, leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. She waited silently.

  After a time he asked, "The High Counselor-is he seriously ill?"

  "He's-well, he's not been at all himself just lately, my lord, and that's a fact."

  "I know that." His tone was brusque. "Anyone else could say as much. It'll be best for you to speak frankly and straight to me, Maia. Forget you're a slave-girl and forget who you belong to. You're an informant, now, telling me as much as you can in reply to my questions, d'you see? The more you can tell me, the better I shall be pleased; as long as it's the truth. When I send messengers to inquire after the High Counselor's health, they're told what he wants me to hear-or perhaps what that saiyett of yours wants me to hear-that he's suffering from a temporary indisposition. She wants me to think there's nothing wrong. I need to know the truth. What is the truth?"

  "Well, 'tis hard to tell, just, my lord, with a man like that. Way he goes on, you see, he's bound to be taken bad every now and then. He gets bilious, like, in his stomach, or else he wakes up with headache an' that. I've seen him bad of a morning and then come the evening he'll be right again and stuffing himself."

  "And you admire that, don't you?"

  "Well, want to know, my lord, I reckon he knows how to enjoy himself; leastways that's to say he did, till a little while back."

  "But this-now. Is this different-serious? Is there any more to it than after-effects?"

  Maia considered. "Yes, my lord, happen there is; only it's hard to say 'zackly what. It's bin going on that long now, you see, and it comes and goes, like."

  "Is he going to die, Maia?"

  "I don't reckon so, my lord: but then of course I don't know a great lot about such things. It's more as though he was kind of-well, bemused-fuddled, like. Occula could

  probably tell you more. Only he seems to rely on Occula a great deal these days."

  "If ever you have reason to think he's going to die, Maia, you're to let me know at once-before anyone else. Either you or Occula must find a way to tell me-quickly: do you understand?"

  Maia looked up into the scowling, bearded face, tawny in the firelight.

  "You told me as I was to speak freely, my lord, so I'll ask you. Do you want him to die?"

  "No, I didn't say that. And it's not going to be any part of your work to kill him, either, if that's what you mean."

  Maia was genuinely shocked. "Well, of course I didn't mean that, my lord! I'd never do such a thing!"

  "If I require it, you may find yourself doing just that, though not to the High Counselor. But killing's no part of what I want to talk to you about now. I was merely inquiring after your master's health, which is a serious matter tome."

  He went to the door and called. After a short delay the elderly saiyett entered, carrying a tray with fruit, a flagon and wine-cups. Kembri, having filled a cup for himself, motioned to her to set down the tray and go. As the door closed he turned back to Maia.

  "You remember an Urtan-a man called Bayub-Otal?"

  "Yes, of course, my lord; at your son's party."

  "You were told-my son told you, didn't he?-to do your best to attract him,"

  She nodded.

  "What came of that, Maia? How successful were you?"

  "Well, tell you the truth, my lord, I couldn't just make him out at all: and as to being what you call successful-"

  "Why couldn't you make him out?"

  "Well, first he was on talking with scornful-like about- well, about girls like me going with men and being given lygols and all such things as that. "You'll get no lygol out of me!" he says-kind of sneering, like. So naturally I reckoned he must just about hate me. But then next minute he was on asking whether I wanted to see him again. It just didn't make no sort of sense."

  "What did you say?"

  "I said I'd be glad to meet him again if that was what he wanted."

  "Was that all that happened?"

  "Yes, my lord. Well, only other thing was that when he asked where he could find me and I said at the High Counselor's, you could see he didn't fancy that at all."

  "What did he say about the High Counselor?"

  "He said 'He knows too much. He's a man everyone fears.' I reckon that's why he hasn't tried to see me again. But then, why did he ask me in the first place whether I wanted to-I mean, if he didn't fancy me?"

  Kembri, standing up, laid a hand on her shoulder. She realized with surprise that he was pleased.

  "You've done well, Maia. You see now, do you, how easy it is to do well, just by doing what you're told?"

  He filled the other wine-cup and handed it to her.

  "I can tell you why Bayub-Otal hasn't tried to get in touch with you again. He left Bekla suddenly, the day after that party. He went back to Kendron-Urtah, but from there he disappeared altogether; for some considerable time. Those whose job it is to watch him lost track of him entirely."

  Maia sipped her wine and said nothing.

  "Traveling in the rains," went on Kembri. "That's suspicious, for a start. But from Urtah, there's only one place to which Bayub-Otal would be likely to vanish altogether- where he couldn't be traced-and that's Suba. Marshland-water-ways-grass half as tall as the trees. Some secret meeting-place. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

  "No, my lord. Fact is, I don't know what you're on about at all."

  He nodded. "That's all to the good: you'll be all the more convincing if you're really what you seem to be."

  He threw two or three logs into the stove. They caught the blaze at once, with a resinous scent, and the gum began to ooze, hissing, from the wood.

  "Bayub-Otal's returning to Bekla at this moment. In fact, he may already be here. I happen to know that he spoke to someone about
you and said he meant to see you again."

  Maia, shaking her head, held her hands apart in a gesture of incomprehension.

  "You're to do your best to find out where he's been; and what he went for, too, if you can," said Kembri.

  "But how, my lord? I told you, he didn't fancy me-"

  Kembri held up a hand.

  "You're young and inexperienced, Maia, and what little experience of men you have had has been concerned with only one thing. I don't understand Bayub-Otal any more than you do, but I know a great deal about him. Either he doesn't care for girls or else he pretends he doesn't, out of some sort of pride. It's not boys, either-we know that. But for your purpose and mine it doesn't matter what's at the back of it. He may not want to go to bed with you, but he wants to see you again-that's good enough for us."

  "Where he went to and why-is it just that you want me to find out, my lord?"

  "As much as you can: anything he'll tell you; his hopes, his plans. He may be innocent; but we think not."

  "I wonder you don't have him killed, then, my lord. You easy could if you wanted, I suppose." This was insolence and meant to be. She was speaking sardonically, out of a peasant's well-founded resentment against all callous rulers and oppressors. He answered her seriously, however.

  "Kill the love-child of the High Baron of Urtah? They hate us enough as it is. That would bring the whole place round our ears." Again came the grim smile. "His father loves him, Maia, even if you don't."

  "Can you tell me any more about him, my lord?"

  "I'm deliberately not going to tell you anything at all: then you can't reveal, can you, that you know more than if you were completely innocent? He didn't want to bed with you at the party. He may change his mind later, or he may not. For our purposes it doesn't matter. You may not know this, Maia, but a few men, here and there, prefer a girl who doesn't fall on her back straight away-even a slave. Perhaps he wants to believe you're pure at heart. If you decide, when you've got to know him better, that that's what he wants, you must do all you can to go along with it. I can't tell you how to win his confidence. You're the woman, not I." He paused. "Well, now you know that he means to see you again, and you've heard what I want you to do. How do you feel about it?"

  Maia had in fact been recalling the contempt with which Bayub-Otal had spoken to her. "Are you learning your trade?" "You'll get no lygol out of me." Remembering her mortification, she felt herself once more full of annoyance. Why ever should Bayub-Otal want to see her

  again? She neither knew nor cared. She could not choose but do this work for the Lord General, but she would much prefer to find herself in a straightforward sexual situation, with a normal man whom she could understand. If only, she thought, it had been Eud-Ecachlon they had wanted her to find out about.

  She raised her eyes. "All I was thinking, my lord, is that if you're looking for a girl as'll make him forget himself- I mean, strike him as young and innocent, the way you said-then I know one as'd likely do much better for the job than me."

  "I'm the one to decide that, Maia, not you," replied Kembri.

  Now she'd angered him, she thought. She looked down into her cup, swirling the wine in the bowl and wondering whether or not to go on. In the silence she could hear the rain beating in gusts against the stones of the tower outside.

  "Who is this girl?" asked the Lord General at length.

  "Her name's Milvushina, my lord. She's with me in the High Counselor's household."

  "And what makes you think she'd do better than you for Bayub-Otal?"

  "Because she's a baron's daughter, my lord."

  "A baron's daughter? A bed-girl in Sencho's household? What do you mean? How did he come by her?"

  "You mean you don't know, my lord?"

  There was no question of him thinking her impudent now. The startled sincerity of her question carried its own conviction.

  "You'd better tell me, Maia. Whose daughter is she?"

  "Enka-Mordet's, my lord; the baron you killed in Chal-con."

  At this he stared. It was obvious that he knew nothing of Milvushina. She told him all that she had learned, together with an account of how she and Occula had found Milvushina at Sencho's upon their return from Elvair-ka-Virrion's party, and of the way in which Milvushina had borne her affliction since then.

  "We heard, my lord, as you'd told your men to bring her back for the High Counselor."

  "Did you indeed?" replied Kembri. "Well, one day I may decide to see this girl for myself. Meanwhile, you can take it from me that she wouldn't do for this work with Bayub-Otal. There's a particular reason why you've been

  selected. When you succeed in finding out what it is, you'll know you're well on the way to success."

  This was baffling; but the Lord General said no more by way of explanation. For some little time he remained standing with his back to her, looking out at the rain. Maia, having drained her cup, tilted it in her hand and sat tracing the serpent pattern with one finger. Twilight was falling, but despite her disappointment over the way the afternoon had turned out, she felt in no hurry to return to Sencho's. The red glow of the stove seemed inviting her to linger before its warmth and let the wine finish its work.

  "I'll give you a piece of advice, Maia," said Kembri suddenly, turning back into the room. "I'm speaking to you now simply as a man to a woman. Only a few slave-girls get as far as the upper city. That means they leave behind them far more who don't: and often that's the ruin of them, because they start forgetting where they came from and deceiving themselves into thinking they're exceptionally gifted-" he shrugged-"too clever to lose. The vital thing for adventurers-whether they're men or women-is never to forget that they're insecure. Self-deceit's fatal; it only leads to a dangerous sense of overconfidence. A girl in your position's entirely dependent on her wits. If they fail you've nothing to fall back on at all."

  Suddenly Maia felt that they were indeed talking on equal terms.

  "You're an adventurer, aren't you, my lord?"

  A brief, surly nod. "You're young, Maia, but as far as I can see you're no fool. Just don't start thinking you're beyond the reach of disaster, and you might go a long way. I've already told you something about Otavis. I remember her when she was. a young, inexperienced girl like you. She gave us a lot of help, so we helped her. That's why she's free now, with enough money to set herself up in the style a high-class shearna ought to have."

  As though about to go, he walked round the end of the bench towards the door. But his sudden, gratuitous advice, not unkindly spoken, had induced in Maia a typically spontaneous impulse towards the only kind of reciprocation at her command. Getting up, she stood with one bare arm outstretched along the back of the settle.

  "You wouldn't care for something before you go, my lord?"

  He turned, and from the shadows by the door looked

  back at her where she stood in the orange glow from the stove.

  "You little trollop! Are you importuning the Lord General?"

  She giggled. "Well, without you help me, my lord, I can't get out of this dress, see?"

  He hesitated a moment; then bolted the door.

  Before she left he said, "Well, audacity can be an advantage-sometimes-to a girl like you. You've still got a light heart, Maia, and a trick of making men go along with it. It's a natural gift; if I were you I should hold on to it as long as I can."

  35: BAYUB-OTAL'S STORY

  Stirring uneasily, Sencho woke little by little from a confused sleep to meet the dark-brown, slightly bloodshot eyes of the black girl gazing down at him. The sight of her, sedulous and compliant, was reassuring, recalling to him that he was now High Counselor of Bekla, wealthy and powerful, master of spies throughout the empire, possessor of information indispensable to Durakkon, Kembri and the Leopard regime. For a few moments, still half-asleep, the stupor of his fancy identified her with his own dark, hidden knowledge of plots and conspiracies running underground-plots which he would reveal and bring to ruin as soon as he was r
eady. This girl was his to do with as he might wish. But she, like his secret knowledge, was too valuable to him to part with or expend lightly. He was reliant on her: she was his security.

  Laying her hands on his swollen body, the girl began to knead and caress him, murmuring gently the while in her own tongue, to the sound of which, though he understood not a word of it, he had become more and more used during these past days while she had attended him, easing the strange infirmity clouding both his mind and his luxury. Her soft speech was like a spell to assuage sickness and anxiety. Relaxing, he gave himself up to the soothing sense of being enfolded, body and mind, in her skilled attentions.

  He could not remember exactly how or when the illness-if illness it was-had come upon him. Indeed, he did not believe himself truly ill, for he had suffered no

  pain or fever; and of poison he had no fear. Not only were his cooks reliable but Terebinthia, he knew, was continually vigilant.

  His lassitude and loss of appetite and lubricity, so it seemed, had stolen upon him by slow degrees, as gradually as winter. At first with impatience, he had felt in himself a disinclination for those pleasures which he had formerly found so enjoyable. His sleep, too-once a smooth refreshment after gratification-had become broken, and troubled by disturbing dreams-fantasies which tended to linger after awakening and from which he could find relief only in the black girl's ministrations.

  In lucid moments he felt her presence as a danger. He must make himself do without her-sell her; have her killed, perhaps. She was a sorceress (for Senchor like many of the cunning and cruel with no belief in religion, was full of superstition and vague notions of necromancy). He had become addicted to her; less to her body-for the intermittent pleasure he could still derive from that was not exclusive of others-than to her mysterious, sustaining power, like a thick, dark fluid which seemed continually passing from her into himself. Sometimes this seemed to him an actual reality; she represented a kind of drug, at one and the same time euphoric and harmful, which he knew to be nocuous yet could not do without. When she was absent he became peevish, full of vague dread and at the mercy of all manner of nebulous fears. Yet when she returned, he felt her spirit scattering those fears only the better to dominate him itself. When he dined, solacing himself with no more than a shadow of his former gluttony, it was by her will; and when he gratified himself, whether by means of her body or another's, it was as though she led him out into a paddock and stood by while he carried out what her husbandry had appointed. Her pig to be fattened; her goat to perform its task.