Maia

by Richard Adams

  Soon after nightfall they had approached the wooded eastern bank of the Valderra, making for the ford by which Lenkrit had crossed from Suba. As they made their way through the trees, however, it became clear from the noise and the number of fires that the Beklan outpost must have been strengthened. There seemed to be two or three dozen soldiers at least. Stealing away, they had gone about three miles north in the dark, through woodland, water-meadows and brooks, only to find at the next ford another strong outpost, where they had narrowly avoided blundering into a sentry.

  It was now long after midnight; they had reached a third ford and Maia, chilled, aching and exhausted, felt past caring what happened.

  All day she had been wondering whether she could not manage to get away from them: yet how, without help?

  Kembri had told her that certain Leopard agents in Urtah might be able to get in touch with her, but none had made any approach. Last night she had had some idea of throwing herself on the mercy of the innkeeper and his wife, but (as the state of their house showed) even by rustic Urtan standards they were blockheads: there was no telling how they might have responded.

  So, with ever-falling spirits, she had trudged on with the Subans. Yet until nightfall she had not really believed- had not really faced the fact that she was going to be taken across the Valderra. Something would surely happen to prevent that. Lespa would not let it happen. Yet here she was. And once across the Valderra, how could she ever hope to get back?

  And then, suddenly-or so it seemed-opportunity was staring her in the face. If they were going to attack this outpost, could she not run away in the confusion? There must be some place-some house, some village-she could hope to reach. They would be wanting to get on across the river; they wouldn't want to waste time searching for her. What might happen after that was another matter; but anything-anything offered more hope than being taken across the Valderra.

  Some sort of argument had begun.

  "But why has someone got to stay with the girl, Anda-Nokomis?" said Lenkrit. "We're few enough as it is."

  "Because if it rums out badly, there's got to be someone to get her away and look after her," answered Bayub-Otal. "She's not going to be taken prisoner and dragged back to Bekla, and that's all there is to it."

  "Then you'd better stay yourself," said Lenkrit brusquely. "It comes down to a question of who's going to be most use-"

  "Don't speak to me like that!" replied Bayub-Otal, still whispering but with fierce authority. "I have my servant here, and he's under my orders, not yours. Pillan, you're to wait here with this girl until we've finished: is that clear?"

  "Very good, my lord."

  For a moment it looked as though Lenkrit was going to take it badly. His two followers, muttering to each other, were clearly expecting him to protest. Then, shaking his head with the air of one acquiescing in a bad business, he drew his sword. "Very well, Anda-Nokomis. Let's get on, then."

  Immediately they were gone, the four of them, creeping noiselessly away through the bushes. Even with Pillan beside her shejwould have taken her chance and run, but he was gripping her wrist, presumably by way of reassurance. Suppose she were to scream and warn the outpost? But that would only mean her own death at Pillan's hands. No, there was nothing she could do. She began to tremble, and he put his arm round her shoulders.

  "Easy, girl. Won't be long."

  She shut her eyes and bit her lip, tense as a runaway thief hiding in a ditch. All around seemed complete silence, but this, no doubt, was because she could hear nothing but the blood beating in her own head. O Lespa! she prayed. Lespa, only help me!

  Suddenly uproar broke out on the bank ahead; curses, shouting, the clash of metal, cries of aggression and alarm; she heard Lenkrit's voice above the hubbub and, looking up, could see black shapes running and stumbling, here and gone against the firelight. There was a heavy splash and then, horrible in its shrill agony, a scream, cut suddenly short. Lenkrit's voice shouted, "Let them go, Anda-Nokomis!" and then "Pillan! Come on! Quick, man!"

  Dragging her to her feet, Pillan began thrusting through the undergrowth, pulling her after him. Twice she tripped, the second time striking her shin so painfully that she cried out and fell to her knees, gasping and dizzy. Pillan, stooping, put an arm under her shoulders, hoisted her bodily toTier feet and held her up as she tottered forward, sobbing and breathless.

  Lenkrit's voice, closer now, shouted again. "Pillan! Don't stop! Straight into the water!" This was followed by further sounds of fighting and commotion. A few moments later, struggling through a tangle of creepers and bushes, the pair of them came out on the bank.

  Two fires were burning on either side of a ramshackle, open-fronted shed made of poles and branches. Beyond lay the river, a good fifty yards wide, turbid and running strongly, its main current closer to the nearer bank. This ford, which had never been one favored by regular travelers, was in fact little more than a spot where it was more-or-less practicable to wade across in summer. Once it had been marked by posts driven into the bed, but some of these had carried away in the winter floods and most of the rest had been broken or pulled out by the Beklans

  to hinder any possible crossing. The nearer bank was open, running rather steeply down to the water, but the far side had no definable margin, the river losing itself in a wilderness of marsh, tall grass, pools and clumps of trees.

  Maia, of course, took in virtually nothing of all this, being prevented not only by the darkness, haste and confusion, but also by her own pain and terror. Before she had taken ten steps into the clearing, however, another and even more dreadful distraction lay before her eyes.

  On the ground, drenched with blood, were sprawled the bodies of three men. One, with the crescent badges of a tryzatt, wore a leather helmet and iron-ringed corselet. The other two, no more than youths, lay in their shirts and breeches, having evidently been caught unawares- asleep, perhaps, in the hut. One of these, on his back close beside the fire, glared up into her face with fixed and terrible eyes. His hands were clutched over a gash in his chest, and blood was still oozing between his fingers.

  The Subans had already plunged into the ford. From beyond the firelight she could hear splashes and shouting, and glimpse here and there the glint of broken water. Pillan had let go of her wrist and was striding ahead of her, but as she faltered, recoiling from the bodies, he turned quickly.

  "Don't stop there! Them as run won't be gone far."

  Suddenly another, faint but appalling voice spoke from close by.

  "Oh, mother! Mother!"

  Maia stopped dead, looking about her. Close by, just beyond the light of the fire, lay a boy little older than herself. He was stretched on his stomach, his hands beneath him, and as he moaned his head twisted from side to side.

  "Mother! Mother!"

  The accent was unmistakably Tonildan. Maia dropped to her knees beside him. Putting her hands under his shoulders, she tried to turn him on his back, but at this he gave a cry, wrenched himself from her grasp and fell back on his face. The sand beneath him was sodden and there was a smell like that of a slaughtered beast. Bending down, she put her mouth against his ear.

  "I'm from Tonilda. What's your name?"

  His lip were moving. Stooping still lower, she could just catch his answer. "Sph-Sphelthon. Sphelthon."

  "Sphelthon. Where's your home?"

  But now it seemed as though he could no longer open his lips. For a moment only a low, humming sound came through them.

  "M'mmm-M'mmm-Meerzaaa-"

  She was jerked to her feet. Someone had her by the arm, someone was speaking in a curious, distorted voice.

  "Maia, come on, before we're all killed!"

  It was Bayub-Otal, dripping wet, his dagger clenched between his teeth.

  Out of the firelight: stumbling down the steepness of the bank. Water over her feet, ankles, knees. Now she was struggling in the river for a foothold, clutching at Bayub-Otal as she tried to keep her balance in the current, ankles turning, stones movin
g under her sandals, firelight receding behind them as they pushed their legs forward into the deeper water. Here's a broken post-clinging to it-stones grinding in the river-bed beneath-giving way-tilting- toppling over-gone; another; now none; only the chattering, swirling pressure round thighs and waist, a cold demon trying to sweep her legs from under her. Somewhere in the darkness Lenkrit was shouting.

  "Thel's gone! Don't stop-fatal!"

  Another step. Another. Which way-which way were the others? Nothing to be seen, no one, no mark to make towards. Only the swirling water in the dark. Don't stop! One foot sliding forward, groping along the uneven stones. Leaning into the current, her body at an angle, the flowing water nearly up to her shoulders.

  Bayub-Otal's voice shouted "Maia!"

  "Help!" she answered. "Help me!"

  He was beside her. He had her by the hand. Again she was lurching forward, forcing one leg and then the other through the heavy, wavering pressure of the water.

  "Another yard!" he shouted.

  With a cry she lost her footing; but he had stayed beside her, downstream; the current swept her against him. He steadied her, leaning against her, keeping his balance, straddle-legged, until she could stand again. Another step and the water-surely-was shallower-slacker? Yes, it was slacker. She could walk. She took three slow yet steady steps. Bayub-Otal, stepping past her, took her hand and thrust it into his belt.

  "Keep hold!"

  He himself was holding Lenkrit's belt, but there were no others.

  A minute later they stopped, knee-deep in stiller water, swamp-grass high all round them, trees overhead forming a cave from which they looked back at the turbulent river and the watch-fires burning on the other bank. Men were bending over the dead and a voice was shouting angrily.

  Pillan appeared out of the swamp behind them. Lenkrit turned to him.

  "Tescon?"

  Pillan jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Leg's hurt, though."

  "Badly?"

  "Can't say."

  His own forearm was gashed and bleeding. His head hung forward, gaping, grinning for air: a froth of saliva covered his chin. And now before Maia's eyes his bearded face, in the gloom, seemed floating bodiless. Ah! and she was floating too-surrounded-dear Cran! by men tall as trees, their lips moving, speaking without sound, all swirling, spiraling together in a slow vortex.

  The next moment she had pitched forward in a faint. Pillan and Lenkrit, grabbing, were just in time to catch her.

  Followed by Bayub-Otal and the limping Tescon, they carried her along the muddy track through the swamp, laying her down on the first dry ground they came to. It was almost morning, and in the gray light they could make out, not far off, a group of Suban huts raised on stilts above the mud. Two or three of the villagers had already seen them and were approaching.

  46: SUBA

  Coming to herself, Maia's first sensation was of a humid, fenny odor of mud and old leaves, and a damp air so heavy as to seem hard to breathe. She could feel soft ground beneath her, warm and molded by the pressure of her body; and then the throbbing of her wounded shin. It must be daylight now, for there was red behind her closed eyelids. Recalling the crossing, she realized that they must have carried her out of the river: so now she was on the

  other side of the Valderra-in Suba. This knowledge came flooding into her like icy water, bringing with it a sense less of danger than of being utterly adrift, beyond all possible benefit of past experience or common sense. Had Kembri envisaged that she might be taken into Suba? Probably he had supposed that if Bayub-Otal had any intention of crossing the Valderra, he would find it impossible because of the watch on the fords.

  Not even at Puhra, when Occula had revealed to her that she had been sold into slavery, had she felt so helpless to envisage how she stood or what was likely to befall her. What sort of a place was this? Would the Subans be friendly, or would she be entirely dependent on the protection of Bayub-Otal? This King Kamat-the arch-enemy of Bekla- was she likely to cross his path?

  She knew the answers to none of these questions. The prospect of opening her eyes-of showing that she had regained consciousness and thereby returning once more to all the stress and anxiety of the past few days-frightened her. As long as she remained unmoving, with closed eyes, she had a respite. She lay still; but listened intently.

  Some sort of movement was going on near-by. A shadow fell across her eyelids. Then it seemed that two people were kneeling-or sitting, or crouching-beside her. Someone felt her pulse; she was careful to keep her wrist limp and let it drop when it was released. A voice she did not know, but could now recognize as Suban, said, "And how did she come by that burn on her shoulder, Anda-Nokomis?"

  Bayub-Otal's voice replied, "Oh, in Bekla, too. That's what their priests call questioning."

  "I don't think she's in any danger," said the first voice. "Pulse is steady-breathing's easy-no recent injuries except the shin there. Fine-looking girl, isn't she? And the resemblance-as you say, it's amazing. How was she on the journey?"

  "Like a falcon," replied Bayub-Otal. "She never complained, either."

  "You say you lost poor young Thel in the river?"

  "I'm afraid so."

  There was a pause.

  "Well, you'd better put her to bed, Anda-Nokomis: I think she's nothing more than tired out; certain amount of fear and strain, too, I suppose."

  "She can't have been free from fear for days," said Bayub-Otal.

  "But she didn't say so?"

  "No."

  The voice uttered a sympathetic murmur. "Don't worry, Anda-Nokomis; I'd expect her to recover by tomorrow."

  This exchange made Maia feel a good deal less apprehensive. The voice, which was slow, deliberate and rather deep, sounded like that of quite an old man. Obviously he was friendly towards both herself and Bayub-Otal: and she was not going to be made to get up and go on; or not just yet, anyway. To go to bed and stay there-that was more than enough for the moment. Sooner or later she would have to let them see she was conscious, so it might as well be now.

  She moaned slightly, drew a couple of deep, sighing breaths, opened her eyes and looked round her. She was lying near the edge of a long, more-or-less triangular patch of rough grass, bordered on either side by dense trees. The point of the triangle was behind her, to her right, and here a track came out from among the trees, leading on past her to a cluster of stilted huts about a hundred yards off. Near these stood a little crowd of dirty, rough-looking people-men, women and children-all staring in her direction. They did not seem to be talking much and were showing no particular excitement. In fact, she thought, they rather resembled cattle in a field gazing at a stranger.

  Lenkrit and Pillan were standing a few yards away, together with two or three other men-obvious Subans; short, swarthy and broad-featured-all bare-footed and dressed in the same sort of garment; rough, shapeless smocks made out of some kind of smooth, grayish skin unknown to her.

  Bayub-Otal was kneeling beside her, together with an old man with a lined, brown face, deep-sunk eyes and a shock of gray hair. Round his neck, on a leather cord, was a bone amulet in the shape of a fish with gaping, toothed jaws. This, in fact, was the first thing Maia saw as she opened her eyes, for since its owner was bending over her it was hanging forward almost into her face. A good deal of the fetid, muddy odor, she now realized, came from him: at least, it was all around, but it would have been less strong if he had not been there. His look, however, was kind enough. Meeting it, she felt still less afraid, and for one strange, here-and-gone moment even had the no-

  tion that she had seen it somewhere before. It expressed not only concern but also a kind of firm, undemanding patience, suggesting that by and large he expected to find people suffering and that even if he could not do a great deal about it he was in no particular hurry to leave them and be off about his own affairs. Nevertheless, he was a somewhat startling figure with whom to be confronted at close quarters, and Maia involuntarily drew back a little, turning her gaze towa
rds Bayub-Otal.

  He, though looking as tired as she felt, smiled down at her reassuringly.

  "You've nothing to be afraid of, Maia. We're in Suba. No one can take you back to Bekla from here."

  Uncontrollably, the tears sprang to her eyes. She sat sobbing on the spongy, warm ground, her wet hair hanging round her shoulders, her mouth and nose running down her chin. Bayub-Otal put his arm round her, then rolled up his cloak and, placing it behind her head, pressed her gently back until she was once more lying down.

  "Let her cry if she wants to, Anda-Nokomis," said the shaggy man. "It'll do her good. She couldn't very well cry before, could she?"

  "Well, she didn't, anyway," replied Bayub-Otal.

  Tescon came up the track from the direction of the village and spoke to Lenkrit.

  "They've got a hut ready for us now, sir, and some food."

  "What about Maia?" asked Lenkrit.

  "One of the women's going to look after her, sir."

  "Do you think she can walk, Anda-Nokomis, or shall we carry her again?" asked Lenkrit.

  The shaggy man, stretching out a hand, helped Maia to her feet. Her sense of not wanting to go on, of not being able to face anything new, had returned. She felt all reluctance; yet she let him give her his arm and went with him across the grass, past the staring, muttering group and on between the huts. Hard-trodden earth; wood-smoke; a peering face at a window, scraggy fowls pecking here and there, a fishing-net spread to dry, the crying of a baby, tattered garments hanging on a line. He helped her up a short, rough ladder into a murky hut where her feet sounded hollow on the boards, and here an old woman spoke to her-something about food-she could hardly understand a word She heard Bayub-Otal replying that she was ex-

  hausted and needed sleep. The old woman, clucking and nodding sympathetically, knelt beside a pallet on the floor, drew back the coverlet and pummeled a couple of dirty cushions. Maia, smiling as best she could and wiping her running nose on her arm, lay down and shut her eyes. After a minute she asked for water, and as soon as she had drunk it-it tasted muddy-she fell asleep. Not even the excitement of the villagers below disturbed her, as Lenkrit, their baron, told them that the stranger who had forced the ford with him by night was none other than Anda-Nokomis, the defrauded and rightful Ban of Suba.