Maia

by Richard Adams

  "I've often wondered, U-Nasada," she said, "why they

  chose to carve it with fish particularly. I mean, you know, the one who made it and them as it was made for."

  "Perhaps because it's made of fish."

  "Made of fish? You're teasing me!"

  "I'm not: I meant the bones of a fish."

  "You've picked on the wrong girl, U-Nasada. I'm from Serrelind, remember? I know about fish and fish-bones. A fish would have to be the size of this room before you could cut panels like that."

  "Oh, yes, at least; possibly bigger. I've never seen them myself, but I know they exist; a thousand miles from here, in waters far bigger than Serrelind. Some of these carved fish are strange to us, too, you see. But obviously they must exist."

  Anyone else she would have told to go and jump in the Barb. Being Nasada, she felt that what he said, or something like it, must be true. Anyway, she didn't care: it was enough to be in his company. He evidently believed it and she knew he wasn't making fun of her, even though she'd started by saying he was.

  He put the cabinet back in its place. "Beautiful things seem even better when they come from far away, don't you think? They're like the stars, then: we don't know how they began, but we do know they're beautiful and do no harm."

  "But isn't Bekla beautiful, too?"

  "Yes; and that's just the difference. It is beautiful, but it's like a poisoned well with lilies growing round it. It's become a death-trap. What used to be natural has been-" He paused, then shrugged. "Made evil."

  She waited for him to go on. "Oh, yes," he said at length. "I know the people in Suba are ignorant and dirty and stupid. They get ill from the climate, too, and most of them don't live as long as people here; at least, I shouldn't think they do. But they don't cheat and rob and murder one another. Do you know that Suba-I still can't help thinking of it as part of the empire-is about the one place left where people can travel in safety and don't have to go armed, and lock everything up? And you know why I've come here, too, don't you? To try and stop even more blood being spilt. We've got that much in common, you and I." He. sighed. "But you succeeded in your attempt and I haven't in mine, I'm afraid."

  She was eager to speak of something else. Indeed, she had been determined to.

  "U-Nasada, I want to tell you something as I haven't told to anyone else in the world."

  He looked up quickly, as though already half-guessing what it was that she was going to say.

  "I'm Suban! What d'you think of that? Nokomis was my mother's sister."

  Then she related all that Tharrin had told her about her father's murder, her mother's flight and her own birth. He listened in silence, but she could see tears in his eyes and, remembering how he had once spoken to her of Nokomis, could feel how deeply he must be moved.

  When she had finished he did not at once reply, seeming to be weighing all that she had told him and considering how to answer. At last he said, "I'll say something you may not like to hear. You're the most beautiful woman in the empire, the most admired and the most-well, prized, I suppose. A sort of princess, really. But even so, and setting aside all question of your safety, I myself believe that you'd be happier-that's to say, more fulfilled and more likely to live naturally and well-in Suba."

  She gazed out the window at the gentle, scented night, the moonlit sky, the rippling Barb and the slopes of Cran-dor beyond: then round at her elegant, luxurious room.

  "Do you think they'd accept me, U-Nasada, after what happened at Melvda?"

  "Well, the short answer's yes, although the details might need a little working out. I don't mean that you'd live a life entirely without troubles and problems, you know."

  She nodded. "I know."

  Suddenly she was kneeling at his feet, her head in his lap, sobbing her heart out.

  "Oh, Nasada, if only you knew how I long for peace and for an end to being afraid all the time! People as you can't trust and you wonder what's in their minds and what they're on about behind your back-"

  He stroked her hair and took her hands between his own.

  "Has someone been offering you marriage?"

  How incredibly startling and instant his penetration was, she thought; just as it had been in Suba. It was disconcerting; yet such swift, outspoken understanding was very comforting, too. With him, talk never went in circles, nor

  yet stayed in one place. That was the nature of his truth: he never wasted time making kindly noises. He was like the seeker of the hidden treasure in old Drigga's story, whose tongue, enchanted, had the power of a sharp sword.

  "Yes: Eud-Ecachlon of Urtah. He said his father's dying, and I'd be High Baroness when he succeeded. I refused him."

  "Do you want to tell me why?"

  She hesitated, and at once he said, "You don't have to. I said 'Do you want to?' and that's all I meant."

  "I want to."

  So then it all came pouring out-Zen-Kurel and the daggers; their passionate exchange of promises at Melvda: her determination to forestall the whole business of the night attack, to save Zenka's life and the lives of the Ton-ildans: her ignorance of what had become of Zenka, her longing for him, her sense of loneliness and loss in the midst of Bekla's adulation. Her avoidance of accepting a lover, Kembri's false suspicion of her motives for doing so, the priest's cryptic words at the temple, the death of Tharrin, Randronoth and the money, Sednil's mission and what he had found out. She wept herself into exhaustion, ending at last, "And I don't care if Kembri kills me or Forms kills me or what they do, the whole damned lot of them-I won't, I won't run away and leave Zenka in that woman's hands. Either I'll save him or else I'll die trying."

  There was another silence, and again she knew that he had entered into all she was suffering.

  "I-was wrong," he said after a time, 'I see that, now- about something I said earlier." She waited. "I said I thought beautiful things were better when they came from far away, and then I said Bekla was a place where what used to be naturally beautiful had been spoiled. Some of it hasn't."

  With his admiration behind her, she felt, she could attempt anything. Even if she failed, her integrity would have earned his respect-an incomparable honor.

  "So what are you going to do?" he asked, suddenly and briskly, with a complete change of manner. Once more he was pressing ahead. That her love for Zen-Kurel and her (most would say) hopeless purpose were right and unquestionable-with him, all that went without saying. Now, as naturally as though they had been engaged upon some matter such as a journey or a purchase, he was down to considering ways and means.

  "I don't know, U-Nasada: I don't know what to do. I've thought of going out by myself to meet the Palteshi army and offering to ransom Zenka."

  "With anyone but Form's that might have worked. But once bitten, twice shy, don't you think? If I were you I shouldn't go paying any more ransoms to the likes of her."

  "Then what?"

  He bent and kissed her cheek, raised her to her feet and himself remained standing until she had sat down once more in her own chair.

  "For the time being it all depends on the fighting, doesn't it? I don't know what Kembri's plans are,' of course, but obviously he'll have to send some sort of troops against her, and I think you can only wait for the outcome."

  "But the priest said, 'You'll find him if you seek him yourself and then he said, 'Opportunity's everything.' "

  "But that works both ways, you know-like a lot of things those sort of people say to you. It could mean 'Wait for the opportunity', couldn't it? And as things stand just at this moment, I don't think you've got one. You're young- eager-brave-you find inaction hard to bear-you want to feel you're doing something-anything. I know that feeling. But I think you must wait and see what comes of the fighting."

  "But by then it could be too late, U-Nasada!"

  "No, I don't think so. Your Zen-Kurel's a Katrian hostage: that's to say, he's being held by Fornis to ensure that Karnat won't attack Paltesh. People are usually reluctant to kill hostages, you know. It
's not like spending money or using soldiers: it's very much a last resort. Once you've killed a hostage, that's that: you've antagonized the other side and got nothing for it. So I'd say, wait here and Zen-Kurel will probably come to you, one way or the other: and that'll be where your opportunity begins. Waiting can be the hardest work in the world, you know. You are doing something for Zen-Kurel, simply by waiting here."

  She forced a smile. "Shagreh."

  "Shagreh."

  "What does it mean, U-Nasada? Every time I thought I knew, next time it seemed to mean something different."

  He laughed. "It can mean almost anything you like, including Yes' and 'No', and 'I don't know.' But as you're Suban, at least you'd better learn to pronounce it properly. It's not 'Shagreh': it's 'Shagreh'."

  "Shagreh."

  "No! 'Shagreh.' "

  "I said 'Shagreh.' "

  "I know you did. You're still saying it. It's 'Shagreh.' "

  "Oh, Nasada, what's the Suban for 'I love you: you cheer me up'?"

  "No Suban would phrase it like that. Let me see-"

  For the next three-quarters of an hour Maia tied her voice into knots of Suban articulation and inflection, laughing delightedly at Nasada's comic pretenses of impatience and inventing more and more absurd or outrageous phrases for him to teach her. He entered into the game as gaily as though he had been the same age as herself, so that she wondered with admiration and even with regret what he could have been like when he was. After her soldiers had left to take him, in her jekzha, the short distance back to his quarters, she went to bed feeling more hopeful and encouraged than for many days past.

  79: FAREWELLS

  "I'm sorry, Brero," said Maia.

  She was most anxious that he should believe her. She would have hated him to think that she did not feel sincere regard for him-for all three of them, but him in particular. "I've done everything I can, honest I have."

  It was true; she had. She had even steeled herself to go and see Eud-Ecachlon, whom Kembri, she was told at the Barons' Palace, had left in charge of the musters. She had waited an hour and been treated exactly as she had expected-with chilly correctness and a firm assertion that as matters stood no single available soldier could be dispensed with. "You know, of course," Eud-Ecachlon had said coldly, "that if it were possible I would certainly make an exception in favor of you." Maia had colored, raised her palm to her forehead and left him without another word: so she had deprived herself of discussing any question of substitutes, or of how she was expected to get about without her soldiers.

  Now, Brero and his mates were standing before her, equipped for active service-swords on left hips, daggers on right, Gelt breastplates, hard leather helmets and leg-

  . gings; lacking only their shields, which they had left outside. They had come to say good-bye, and as far as they were concerned it was plainly a keen disappointment, not lacking the bitter ingredient of a feeling that she had let them down. After all, the Serrelinda-if she couldn't get anything done as she had a mind to, who could? Probably they'd already been boasting to their comrades that the thing was as good as fixed.

  So they stood fidgeting and ill-at-ease, these strapping fellows, on the polished floor of her parlor, perhaps secretly wondering whether even now, maybe, if only one of them could manage to say the right thing-

  "I'm sorry, Brero. I went to see Lord Eud-Ecachlon myself: I'd have seen the High Baron if I'd thought it'd have made any difference."

  "Yes, of course, saiyett."

  "Surely it won't be very long, will it? One Beklan's worth six o' those rotten old Palteshis any time. I tell you what, Brero: you bring me back that woman's head and I'll give you five thousand meld for it, I swear I will. Oh, I'm sure you'll be back soon: why, it might be no more than a week!"

  "Well, we'd all like to think so, saiyett, of course. A lot can happen in a week, can't it, one way or the other? But you'll be safe enough; don't worry, we'll see to that."

  Suddenly she was on her feet, taking his hands, taking the others' hands in turn, looking into their eyes with the most earnest desire to convince them.

  "Oh, Brero, I really did do everything I could to keep you with me, honest! I'm not as powerful as you think, and that's the truth. I've got enemies, you know, and I'm not sure they aren't worse than yours, 'cos you can see yours."

  He was embarrassed. "You mustn't take on this way, saiyett. You've always done the right thing by us; and we've enjoyed lookin' after you." (Murmurs of corroboration.) "D'you remember that young chap that day in the Caravan Market, him as bought all the flowers and soaked you wet through? And how I had to pull the wheel over his foot to get rid of him! Ah! we had some good times, didn't we?"

  She gave them two hundred and fifty meld each. She had had it ready. They'd been expecting something, of course, but not as much as that: it was equivalent to about

  six months' pay. She gave each of them a keepsake, too- or perhaps it was a talisman for good luck and safety, was it? After all, she'd touched them, hadn't she, and if the Serrelinda wasn't lucky, who was? For Brero, a little onyx bull no bigger than his thumb; and for the other two, an Airtha in malachite and a silver Canathron to be worn as a charm (for the third fellow was Lapanese). No meanest curmudgeon could have argued that all this wasn't generous, and as they thanked her she felt that at least she had convinced them that she was not indifferent to their fortunes and welfare.

  "We'll have to be going now, saiyett," said Brero a minute or two later. "The muster's at noon, you see. You did say, didn't you, that you'd be needing your jekzha?"

  She nodded. "That's right. The wise man-the doctor from Suba-he's going north to Quiso, you know, and there's a caravan leaving this morning: I'm taking him down to join it."

  "You do know, saiyett, don't you, that the caravans have to assemble at the Blue Gate today-outside it, I believe-because the muster's in the market? Anyway, I've hired two porters to pull you down there. They're waiting now." He grinned. "They won't be like us, of course, but I dare say you'll get there, one way or another."

  When they had gone, she went outside and stood for a little while on the terrace, watching the shadow of the gnomon just perceptibly moving on her bronze sundial. The sundial had been a gift from Bodrin, the wealthy metal-master of Gelt, who had had it set up with precision by two of his own craftsmen. Although she enjoyed possessing such a marvel-there were very few in Bekla, and it always impressed even the most aristocratic visitors-she had never really understood it, and had once made Sarget burst out laughing-no common occurrence-by inquiring whether it worked equally well by moonlight. There were three lines of verse carved round the base, and these at least she had mastered-"Time is a flower, In Tiltheh's power: Pluck thou the hour." She read them now, and they gave her little comfort. Reckon I'd alter that, she thought. "Waiting's a task, The gods do ask. Wear then thy mask." Still, that wouldn't mean much, would it, not to anyone 'ceptin' me?

  The hired porters were aging men in torn, dirty clothes.

  One had a limp and the other a white, sightless eye. She guessed they were the best that Brero had been able to drum up for her. Kembri's muster officers, she knew, had been thorough and ruthless with all who could not bribe them enough. Probably almost every able-bodied man in the city, unless he were a craftsman of more use to the Leopards if left alone, had been impressed either as a soldier or as some sort of auxiliary. She wished she could have had a more thorough look round for herself, or at least have had a chance to put these men into respectable clothes.

  Once through the Peacock Gate, however, with Nasada, cloaked and booted for his journey, hunched beside her, she found the Street of the Armourers plunged into such turmoil that there was hardly anyone to notice even the Serrelinda. A number of people seemed to have decided to leave Bekla on their own account and were piling handcarts with their possessions. Many of the shops were shut, but this had done nothing to diminish the universal agitation. Men, some more-or-less armed and others not armed at all, were on their way
to the muster, some singly, others in groups. A number of these were clearly strangers to Bekla, levied from the provinces. Once, a little distance off, she saw a party who looked very like Tonildans being shepherded along by a Beklan tryzatt. She called out to them and waved, but could not attract their attention over the heads of the crowd.

  It was clear enough that there would be no getting across the Caravan Market and probably no getting down Storks Hill either, and Maia told the men-who were already dawdling, and muttering to each other-to pull off to the left, cross over one of the little bridges spanning the Monju brook and so come down into the Sheldad.

  The Sheldad, however, was if anything worse than the Street of the Armourers, seeming as it did to be full of wailing women either parting from sweethearts or husbands or else accompanying them to the Caravan Market. Maia told the men to get straight across it and go down by the Tower of the Orphans; an easy landmark, yet still they objected, grumbling over their shoulders above the surrounding tumult that it was too far and they didn't know the way. It so happened that at this moment Maia caught sight of a passing officer whom she knew-an honorably disabled man, now employed on staff duties, whom she

  had met at one of Sarget's supper-parties. Climbing down, she ran across to him, explained her difficulty and begged him to put the fear of Cran into her surly hirelings. This he at once did very effectively and Maia, knowing the district well enough, thereupon directed them out of the Sheldad and on towards the Kharjiz.

  "Do you know," she remarked conversationally to Na-sada, pointing to the house as they passed it, "I was once sent there to go to bed with Eud-Ecachlon?"

  "Well," he replied, "that's one thing you won't have to do any more, isn't it? Whatever happens, I'm sure you're well out of marriage with an Urtan. They're proud people, rather humorless and terribly quick to resentment. Anda-Nokomis has got a lot of Urtan in him, you know: always talking about his honor, and never a joke or a laugh. Have you ever seen Anda-Nokomis really laugh? You've refused Eud-Ecachlon, and you were perfectly entitled to; but he won't forget it. Stay here and save your Zen-Kurel; I'm one who honestly believes you will. But after that get straight out of Bekla. It's a devils' playground, Maia."