Anyone might have said as much. Still, that was nothing unusual. After all, doctors frequently advised, "Go to bed until you feel better" and lawyers (or so she had heard) often said, "You have a weak case and might as well not proceed"; and took their fees for saying those things. Well, to hear from a professional nothing more than the obvious at least clarified your mind and stopped you thinking in circles. "If you seek him…" Yet how was she to do that? "Opportunity is all." Was she to make it, then?
"Zenka," she asked silently, "won't you tell me, darling?" But for once he made no reply in her heart, only smiling as he had smiled in the lamplight at Melvda when he had promised that he would always love her and begged her never to forget him.
Rather abstractedly, she selected a plain robe of very pale gray and a contrasting necklace of tawny ziltate beads from the Telthearna; a present from some admirer. No doubt, she thought, their price had lined some Ortelgan pocket; perhaps Ged-la-Dan's.
Milvushina received her warmly and affectionately. The old reserves which had at one time constrained their relationship had entirely vanished, due-or so Maia felt- not only to their closer acquaintance and happier fortunes, but also to a certain mutual dependence which each felt without actually saying as much. Milvushina, an aristocrat to her finger-tips but nevertheless a girl from the back of
beyond, her man gone to the wars and her servants all Beklan, often found herself, even now, somewhat out of her depth. From Maia she could seek advice without breach of confidence or loss of dignity. Maia, for her part, was more than glad of a friend who, unlike the shearnas, was not for ever concerned with men, basting and the material advantages to be gained therefrom. Nennaunir and Otavis were warm-hearted, unenvious and the most easy-going and tolerant company imaginable, yet she not infrequently felt-to her own surprise and self-annoyance-that there were things about which she could not speak to them. Nennaunir, who admired her success, was plainly ready to stand by her anywhere; would have lent her money if she had needed it, lied for her or spoken up in her defense against anyone. Yet she could not have talked to Nennaunir about Zen-Kurel.
Milvushina was another matter. Although Maia had not as yet spoken to her of Zen-Kurel, she had come to feel that one day, when she was ready, she would probably find sympathy and understanding. What she felt to be their common bond was a sense of deep personal integrity transcending superficial contamination. Whatever had befallen Milvushina, whatever had been done to her, she plainly regarded as past and over, and her true self as remaining intact despite it. Her devotion to Elvair-ka-Virrion was no matter of expediency or eye-to-the-main-chance. In her own eyes she had neither come down in the world nor (like Nennaunir) up in it: she was Elvair-ka-Virrion's consort and the willing mother of his unborn child. With all this Maia felt herself entirely in sympathy.
Milvushina received her wearing a dark-blue, loose-bodied gown of Yeldashay silk on which was embroidered in gold thread a likeness of Airtha the mother almost identical to that which Maia had seen last year in the long gallery of this very house. Smiling, she put her hands behind her back and drew it close for a moment, to show Maia the swell of her belly beneath.
"Enjoying it?" asked Maia, passing an admiring hand over the curve.
Milvushina nodded happily, poured wine for them both and led her into the cool, flower-scented supper-room.
Maia, naturally, asked first about the latest news from Elvair-ka-Virrion and the Chalcon expedition, and of this Milvushina spoke with every appearance of cheerfulness,
giving-very convincingly-the impression of having heard nothing which she could not mention in the hearing of the slaves.
"In the last letter I had-that was three days ago-he said they were a good thirty miles or more into Chalcon and sending out patrols to find Santil's main force. It's very difficult country, he says-" Milyushina laughed-"well, I could have told him that-and it's not always easy to get supplies through. Apparently at least one baggage-train's been ambushed."
"What d'you reckon's going to be the rights of it, then?" asked Maia.
"Well, if you really want to know, I think it'll all come to little or nothing," answered Milvushina. "I told Elvair as much myself. In those hills Santil can keep out of the way for as long as he likes-I should imagine-and then of course he's got the people on his side. I felt quite sure Elvair would have trouble feeding an army that size once they really got any distance into Chalcon. If you ask me, they'll be back before the end of the summer and no one much hurt on either side. But they'll have lots of rip-roaring stories to tell, won't they? Men always do."
They talked of other things. After supper, however, when the sun had set, the slaves had brought in the lamps and left them together and she was sitting at her embroidery frame, Milvushina came back to the war in a rather different vein.
"I didn't want to say this before," she said. "I know slaves get to hear everything anyway, but I don't want them saying they heard it from me. I can't help worrying, Maia. Elvair says the whole country's bitterly hostile, even though he's had it proclaimed everywhere that they've no quarrel with anyone except Santil. I told him how it would be. My father was very well-liked, you see; and besides- well, I think they're angry about me, too."
" 'Tain't all that surprising," said Maia.
"Elvair says arrows come flying out of the trees, bridges get broken, sentries are found strangled-all that sort of thing-and never an enemy to be seen. But what in Cran's name did he expect?"
"Has he told Kembri all this, or just you?" asked Maia.
"I don't know what he's told Kembri," said Milvushina. She paused, holding up two contrasting strands of yellow to the lamp. "It's so hard to tell in this light, isn't it? Which
one would go better with the green, d'you think?" And then, as Maia pointed to one of them, "But I know what Kembri told me, only this morning. Not about Chalcon- about Urtah."
"Uriah?" said Maia. "What about Urtah, then? You mean as there's trouble there, too?"
"So Kembri was saying," answered Milvushina. "You know, of course, don't you, that the Urtans have been pressing for Bayub-Otal to be pardoned and released? Kembri's still holding him in Dari-Paltesh, to make sure his father keeps the province quiet; I don't know for certain, but it's my belief he's told the old man secretly that he will release Bayub-Otal as soon as things have quietened down and people have begun to forget about what happened in Suba."
She refilled Maia's goblet. "But the High Baron of Ur-tah's one thing, you know, and the Urtans themselves are another. There are a lot of people there who hate the Leopards and aren't content to wait. There's been trouble; no actual rebellion yet, but the next thing to it, and naturally Kembri's worried. There's unrest in Belishba, too. Apparently the governor's written to Kembri that there's so much heldro opposition to the slave quotas there that unless they're reduced he can't undertake to go on keeping law and order. It's the open fighting in Chalcon that's sparked all this off; I'm certain of that. I only wish to Cran the Leopards had left Santil alone and Elvair was safe back in Bekla. To tell you the truth, Maia, the whole thing's troubling me very much."
She was silent for a time, and Maia was silent too, listening to the distant cry of the watchman on the Peacock Wall and the thin "twink, twink" of bats hunting above the dark garden outside.
At length Milvushina resumed. "But actually, none of this is really what I wanted to talk to you about, Maia dear. There's something else; something nearer home that concerns you as much as me."
"Oh, ah?" Maia waited with some little apprehension.
"Do you remember," went on Milvushina, "one day when we were at your house, I told you I was afraid of Fornis?"
"Ah; on account of Elvair'd taken you away from old Sencho's," said Maia. "Nor he wouldn't send you back to Chalcon when she told him."
"Well, it's worse now," said Milvushina. "Durakkon's told Fornis officially that at the end of this year she'll have to cease to be Sacred Queen."
"Don't see as he could have done anything els
e," replied Maia. "I mean, her time's up anyway; more than up, isn't it?"
"Yes, but you can guess how much she likes the idea. And meanwhile everyone's begun talking about who's to succeed her."
She gazed questioningly at Maia.
"Well, come to that, Sessendris was on about this to me-oh, weeks ago now," said Maia.
"What did she say?"
"She said there was plenty of people in the lower city as'd like to see me acclaimed Sacred Queen, and I said that was silly. So then she said some of the Leopards would be ready to try it on if they thought it would be to their own advantage, like, and go down well with the people."
Milvushina nodded. "And Kembri himself wants it to be me."
"Yes, Nennaunir told me that Kembri and Elvair would likely have the same idea about you, but I didn't know whether to believe her or not. Do you want to be Sacred Queen? 'Cos I don't, I'll tell you that much."
Milvushina shook her head. "No, I don't. Before Fornis it wouldn't have mattered all that much. But you see, Maia, during the last eight years Fornis has given the Sacred Queen so much real power that the whole thing's become absolutely vital to anyone who wants to rule Bekla."
"Well, far's I'm concerned, you can have it," said Maia, smiling.
"Oh, you still don't see, do you?" replied Milvushina almost frantically. "It doesn't matter what Durakkon said to Fornis: she won't go unless she's actually forced to, and she's as cunning and cruel as a whole army of devils! You and I-we're both in danger-in real danger-from her; but you most, because Kembri's protecting me. Oh, Maia, I'm so afraid she's thinking up some horrible plan to put you out of the way!"
At this Maia, weeping, poured out the whole story of Tharrin's death, omitting nothing. Milvushina listened without interrupting, her needle laid aside. As Maia ended she said, "I knew your real reason for the auction at the
barrarz, because Elvair told me. But I didn't know the rest. The cruel woman! How vile and wicked!"
"What d'you reckon Ashaktis told Tharrin, then?" asked Maia.
"That you were dead-that you weren't coming-that you'd deserted him-whatever would make him despair. And of course she brought the rope."
"Milva, couldn't we say-I mean, sort of both announce publicly-as we don't neither of us want to be Sacred Queen?"
"Oh, no; that would only look ridiculous-I mean, before either of us has actually been put forward. All we can do is wait, and be terribly careful." She hesitated; then suddenly said, "Oh, Maia, don't go home tonight! Stay and sleep here!"
For the life of her Maia could not share such desperate and immediate anxiety as this. "But-well, but I mean, I'll have to go home some time, Milva. I can't stay here for ever, can I?"
"Never mind; just stay tonight. I'd feel happier if you did. We'll sleep together, like last year when you used to comfort me." She embraced Maia. "You can comfort me again: I need it, I can tell you."
Maia could only accept, and send Brero back with a message to Ogma.
The following morning the two girls were awakened by Milvushina's Beklan maid, a competent, handsome woman named Lokris. Bringing in a tray of milk, fruit, butter and fresh-baked bread, she asked Milvushina, "Have you heard the news, saiyett?"
"From Chalcon, do you mean?" asked Milvushina apprehensively. "What's happened, Lokris?"
"No, not from Chalcon, saiyett. I only asked because I thought you might not have heard last night. It seems the Sacred Queen's left Bekla for Paltesh. She went yesterday evening, but the Lord General wasn't informed until several hours after she'd gone. Her chamberlain, Zuno, came here with a message very late. Apparently he'd had orders not to deliver it earlier. She said she wanted to be among her own people for a while."
"How did you come to hear this, Lokris?" asked Milvushina.
"Well, saiyett, we get to hear things, of course, but as you know, I don't go chattering as a rule. Only I thought-
well, I thought this was something you might like to know about quickly."
68: MAIA COMMISSIONS A SEARCH
The news that Form's had left Bekla for Paltesh filled both the upper and lower cities, from the poor to their rulers, with speculation. The interest was of that unquiet kind which people feel when they suspect that a public occurrence is likely to affect their personal lives. One thing above all that the Sacred Queen was known for was a woman of decision; of action, energy and vigor. (It was common knowledge, for example, that an entire night without sleep was nothing to the Sacred Queen.) It was also known that she often did the unexpected, devising moves that could hardly have been anticipated. Finally, she was a great confronter and outfacer, always ready and more than ready to beard anyone at all and overcome them by sheer force of spirit and power of rejoinder. Both Kem-bri and Durakkon had good cause to know this, to say nothing of the chief priest, various provincial governors and countless smaller fry down to the wretched dog-boy. If Fornis had left Bekla for Paltesh, therefore, it would certainly not be out of a nostalgic desire for a quiet holiday among her own countrymen. She must have some purpose, and as to what it might be there was much talk and guessing among the common people, to whom she remained what she had always been-a magical figure, intrepid, dazzling and numinous, her known cruelty rather adding to her goddess-like standing (for are not the gods crudest of all?) than otherwise. (It is a curious fact that lack of pity is often condoned in people admired for their personal courage.) At the same time, the impossibility of her continuing as Sacred Queen was not disputed. Such a thing would be impious and accordingly most unpropitious, inviting the anger of the gods. Fornis herself must know this, and therefore presumably (thought the people) had no wish to incur divine retribution. Most in the lower city had hitherto supposed that she would either return to Dari to rule Paltesh, or else that she would accept some honorable religious appointment conferred by the High Baron, such as controller of sacred statues, images and mural paintings
throughout the empire. Everyone, of course, remembered her march upon the city nearly eight years before, but this she could not be expecting to repeat.
Both Durakkon and Kembri, however, would have been glad to feet sure of this. They were among those-that is to say, virtually everyone-to whom it had never occurred that Fornis would leave the city. Now that she had, the very fact was reason for disquiet. Fornis could be up to anything, and that she was up to something was certain. The lower city, who saw her only from a distance and, as it were, on her own terms, had scarcely any notion of the extraordinary blend of shrewd cunning and violent passion given to all extremes which made up her character. "That woman," Kembri had once said to Durakkon, "would be capable of plotting to ruin herself and the world, as long as it destroyed her enemies and sated her pride." Now, with the queen gone, Durakkon, still aghast and wretched from his glimpse of some of the grisly weapons in her secret armory, could only await the outcome with misgiving. To command her return would be futile, for the secular power could claim no ultimate authority over the comings and goings of the Sacred Queen. Indeed, the only possible effect would be to prolong her absence. But then again, that? Might that in fact be relatively the safer course? (There could be no such thing as absolute safety for any enemy of Fornis.)
Maia, however, shared none of this disquiet; for her there was only the simple, delightful knowledge that the queen was gone. She had not realized how badly she had been afraid of Fornis, or in how many respects her fear had been affecting her life. She had in fact been afraid whenever she made new friends, afraid to entertain in her own house, to go freely about the upper city, to enjoy to the full her public popularity. Now, like an animal venturing little by little out of concealment, she began gradually to do all these things. She gave a party for thirty guests (the limit, she reckoned, for her house, and of course she had to hire extra servants for the occasion). Among those who came were one or two of the first wounded officers back from Chalcon, and little good it was that they had to tell. Guided by Nennaunir and Otavis as to who would be suitable, she began to invite a few
of her better-connected admirers to call on her for wine and talk. Maia, of course, was no brilliant conversationalist, but she was
a good listener, lively and quick to both sympathy and laughter, and with these qualities added to great beauty no girl has ever been able to go far wrong. By listening, too, she learned a good deal about affairs in the provinces, and began to understand what Kembri had meant by saying that men were apt to speak more freely and indiscreetly in the company of a beautiful girl whom they wished to impress. Indeed, she heard one or two things which she guessed that the Lord General would have been most interested to learn. However, she had not seen him since the morning when she had gone to the Barons' Palace to plead for Tharrin, and anyway she no-longer regarded herself as his agent. As far as she was concerned, that had come to an end on the banks of the Valderra. She no longer had any need to better herself by bearing tales. Also, she felt intuitively that she had fallen out of favor with Kembri, and this she attributed to his having decided upon Milvushina and not herself for Sacred Queen. That, however, troubled her little, for she did not believe that he would go the length of seeking her life or her ruin.
So she fared abroad, and bought fine clothes, and slept till noon when she chose, and dined or supped with Sarget, and with Bodrin the Gelt iron-master, and such Leopard lords as her friends approved; and shed tears of rapture as Fordil's fingers called forth from the hinnari a divine sorrow in which all her own-and the world's-was dissolved. In the moment of awakening, and before ever her sleepy mind had fastened upon the actualities of the coming day, it would be filled with a delightful assurance that all was well. All, indeed, until she thought of Tharrin's ashes blowing on the easterly wind-ah! whither? Towards that remote west-Suba, Katria, Terekenalt-which somewhere in its immensity contained her own Zen-Kurel. She, the Serrelinda, who had saved the city, had been made a victim of the Sacred Queen's cruelty, wronged and cheated beyond anything that any honest heart should brook unavenged. And incomparably fortunate though she might be, she yet lacked the simple luck of thousands of peasant lasses whose lot lay far beneath her own; namely, to laugh and chide and bed and wake with her rightful man.
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