Maia

by Richard Adams

  "How much money did you find in her clothes?" asked Elleroth.

  "Forty-two meld, sir; all in one-meld pieces."

  "Thank you, tryzatt; that's all."

  The tryzatt saluted and went out. Elleroth sat silent for almost a full minute. At length he said, "I confess this defeats me. Here's this obviously very brave and charming girl, who went to Bekla and helped to kill Sencho-one of the most heroic exploits I've ever heard of in my life- and according to these men-and they are decent enough men in the normal way, as I know myself-wouldn't you agree, Mollo?-"

  "Two of the best I've got. Can't expect soldiers to be basting saints, that's it, 'specially after a campaign like this-"

  "Excuse me, sir," said Zirek. "I'm afraid the truth is that what seems so strange to you is perfectly understandable to me. I knew Meris very well: I believe every word the soldiers said and I can tell you why."

  The others listened as he told them all he knew of Meris, from Belishba to Lapan.

  "Poor girl!" said Elleroth, when he had finished. "Well, she's not the first and she won't be the last. Thank you, Zirek: that makes everything very clear. So you'd agree, Mollo, that she really brought it on herself?"

  Mollo nodded morosely. "But they can't be let off altogether."

  "Oh, no. They're both guilty of condoning a woman in breaking curfew and whoring round the camp; and on top

  of that, Dectaron's guilty of leaving his duty while on guard, and that's a serious offense. What do you think?"

  "I'd offer them their choice between dishonorable discharge and a flogging."

  "But-er-wouldn't that just mean that you'd lose two good soldiers?"

  "Not a bit of it! The men are all convinced they're going to be looting Bekla in two weeks from now. That's what they've marched and fought all the summer for-to line their pockets. Offer Dectaron twenty lashes and Lortil twelve. They'll take them; you'll see. And it'll be very good for morale, Elleroth, believe me, when word gets round that you and I evidently think discharge now would be a punishment as bad as a flogging. The men'll all be sure that you must know for certain we're on the point of taking Bekla, that's it."

  "Very well: I agree," said Elleroth. He became pensive once more. "Poor Meris! You've told us, Zirek, that she enjoyed making trouble. She certainly managed it this time, but it was rather expensive for her, wasn't it? And to think she only had to wait a little while to be rich and secure for the rest of her life! Human nature's a strange thing." He stood up. "Well, we'd better go and finish our job, I suppose-which I don't relish."

  "Nor I ours," murmured Zirek. Elleroth looked up at him inquiringly, and he said, "Someone's got to tell Maia."

  Bayub-Otal and Zen-Kurel exchanged a glance. There was a short silence.

  "I suggest all three of us go together," said Zen-Kurel.

  Meris burned at nightfall, her pyre surrounded by hundreds of pitying onlookers, for the women and children had been brought back from the other side of the river and many of the Ortelgans, more than content with Ta-Kominion's news of his negotiations with Elleroth, had already come over to the Sarkidian camp to fraternize. Untimely death, of course, was nothing out of the ordinary either to the soldiers or the ex-slaves, but throughout the camp there had been much talk of the beautiful girl, a guest of the commander, who had succeeded in a desperate exploit for the heldril and been on her way to Santil-ke-Erketlis to receive her reward. Fanned by hearsay, indignation had spread against the men responsible for her death,

  until Mollo obtained Elleroth's consent to assemble his own company-the culprits' comrades-and tell them the rights of the matter before having the punishment inflicted (for, as he had guessed, both declined discharge and even accepted the alternative with some relief, since the possibility of being hanged for murder had been doing nothing for their peace of mind).

  As the ceremony of the burning began-four soldiers, each with a resinous torch, standing to the corners of the pyre to set light to it simultaneously-Zirek moved quietly away from the group round Elleroth and stood apart, gazing intently as the blaze spread inward. Maia, overcome with grief and by the majesty and solemnity of the occasion, did not notice that he had left her side. It was only later, after Elleroth had stepped forward to throw the appointed grain, salt and wine upon the embers; after the people had begun to disperse and Bayub-Otal and Zen-Kurel had taken their places on either side of the commander as part of his recessional escort, that she caught sight of him standing solitary, with bowed head and folded arms.

  She made her way to him and stood unspeaking by his side. They were alone, for Elleroth's officers, in accordance with custom, had formed two files behind him as he made his departure.

  After a little Zirek said, "She had more courage than anyone I've ever known-except for Occula. She never flinched that night, never hesitated, never showed any fear e: her before or after. I couldn't have done it without her, you know."

  "And I couldn't have done what she did: I know that."

  "Killing Sencho-that was vital, you see. The Leopards' whole intelligence system fell to pieces. I wonder whether anyone in years to come will remember her name and what she did."

  "The gods will remember."

  "The gods? You'd wonder sometimes, wouldn't you? She's forfeited everything; and who-what-drove her to that but the gods?"

  "You know, Zirek, somehow I feel Meris would have undone herself one way or another, even if she'd been given a fortune."

  "Maybe; but there she is now. Forty-two meld and a bonfire. Not even a tarpli-not from these strangers."

  "I never thought of the tarpli," said Maia. "Do they have them in Belishba same as we do in Tonilda?"

  "Of course."

  The tarpli, though not universal throughout the Beklan empire, was a tribute of obsequy rendered throughout Tonilda and certain other provinces. A poem or verse mourning the dead person and recalling his or her life and character would be composed by some relative or friend and sung or declaimed as the pyre burned low. Often, among simple people in the country villages, it would be rough doggerel enough, but nevertheless might well have taken the maker a deal of trouble and be offered with sincere feeling. Maia had composed one in her own mind for Tharrin, though only Lespa had been permitted to hear it.

  "I made one up for her," said Zirek, "but no one said anything about a tarpli and I didn't care to put myself forward among these officers with their fine ways."

  She took him by the hand and led him up to the edge of the pyre, until the heat forced them to a halt.

  "Now sing it."

  He hesitated. "It's not like a real tarpli-not like they generally are. But-I don't know-some god put it into my mind."

  "Then he must have done it for Meris. Give it to her, go on. I'm stood here: I won't let anyone stop you."

  Zirek, raising his arms as in prayer, began to sing. His voice was true and sure and after the first line or two rang out with a confidence which carried its own authority. Before the close many of the dispersing onlookers had turned back to listen and he, perceiving this, repeated his threnody from the beginning.

  "The swift, black river withers in its banks, Buried in gaunt trees, blind to the sun. Only a deep chattering of stones Tells where the cold fingers of current run.

  And faint ghosts of bones that lie in the wood Flicker and cackle together among the branches. Two green eyes move silently to drink, Crouching on huge, imagined haunches.

  A noise of running, and startled birds fly up

  In the distance. What was that, that suddenly cried?

  Footsteps… Only the river pouring down

  And the dumb, warlock forest stretched beside. Now I remember how, in that still town, They told of a girl wandering till she died."

  In the succeeding silence, Maia stood for some moments as unstirring as though it had indeed been a god who had devised the words. Then, turning to Zirek, she flung her arms round his neck, clinging to him and weeping. This strange, oblique lament had pierced her as no conventional elegy f
or Meris could have done. He stood quietly, suffering her thus to reciprocate what he had offered. The people went away once more and they werejeft alone.

  At length, looking up, she saw Anda-Nokomis beside them. He took Zirek's hand in his own.

  "The tarpli, was it?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "That's well done. I'm to blame: I overlooked it. But you didn't, so all's as it should be."

  He waited without impatience while Maia recovered herself and dried her eyes. Then he said, "Elleroth wants to see the four of us. There's no hurry; whenever you're ready."

  "I'm ready, Anda-Nokomis," said Maia.

  95: DESTINATIONS

  Elleroth, having nodded to the servant to leave them, looked up at his four guests.

  "The dead are at peace," he said. "We have to believe that." No one spoke and he went on, "I can't imagine the gods being very hard on that poor girl, can you? It's been a miserable business; I hope that at least you're able to feel that everything's been done decently and properly."

  "Yes," replied Bayub-Otal. "We're all well satisfied as far as that goes. It was most good of you, with so much else on your hands."

  "No, we're the people who feel under an obligation," said Elleroth, "and as far as we're concerned it's not discharged yet. I need to know what you want to do now, so that we can help you to do it. But before we come to that, may I ask you, Serrelinda, to do me the honor of accepting this little keepsake on behalf of me and my men?"

  It was his own neck-chain, with the silver corn-sheaves emblem.

  Maia's lips trembled. Yet as one might have expected, the Serrelinda, who had been presented to King Karnat dressed in golden lilies and given a tress of her own hair to Durakkon in the Caravan Market, was equal to this moment also. Having returned the Sarkid commander's smiling gaze for a moment, she bowed her head in a silent gesture of recognition and gratitude as demure as any virgin acolyte of the Thlela. As she did so he bent forward, placed the chain round her neck and centered the emblem at her bosom. '

  "He knew neither his father nor his mother," murmured Elleroth.

  "Among strangers he labored as a slave, An exile in a country not his own, The Lord Deparioth, God's appointed sword."

  This was part of the traditional lament for the hero Deparioth, known as "The Tears of Sarkid." Maia could only guess that Anda-Nokomis must have told him her story.

  She raised her head. "Thank you, my lord." Running her fingers down the chain, she closed her hand on the corn-sheaves emblem. "It's just over my heart: I reckon that's the right place for it, don't you?"

  They all laughed delightedly, and as she sat down Zirek stooped and kissed her shoulder.

  "Well," said Elleroth briskly, "as I've said, you shall have every help from us. U-Zirek, let's take you first, shall we; for I rather think there's not much doubt about you, is there? You'd like a safe-conduct to Santil, wouldn't you?"

  "Thank you very much, my lord," replied Zirek. "Yes, that would take care of everything as far as I'm concerned."

  "It's not thirty miles to my father's estate in Sarkid," said Elleroth. "You've only to get there in one piece to be treated to all you deserve-he'll be more than delighted when he learns who you are-and from there you should easily be able to reach Santil in two days."

  "Well, I'll make so bold as to tell your father, my lord, what I think of his son."

  "I fear that he may tell you," said Elleroth, "what he thinks of an heir who goes off freebooting with Santil with-

  out asking either consent or blessing-which he knew he wouldn't get, of course. But that won't affect my father's hospitality, I can assure you. Give him my dutiful greetings and tell him to expect me back when Bekla's fallen. And now, Lord Anda-Nokomis, what are your plans?"

  "The Ban of Suba," he replied, "has a duty to get back there as quickly as he can."

  "That's what I thought you'd say, and I can only applaud. However, has it occurred to you that under present conditions, the most feasible route may unavoidably be circuitous-not to say ambagious, periphrastic and anfractuous? In a word, have you considered going back to Suba via Bekla? We'd be only too delighted for you to join us."

  "I'm honored, Elleroth, and thank you. My own people will follow a one-handed man because they owe allegiance to his legendary mother's son, but I don't think I could reasonably expect the same of your men."

  "Anda-Nokomis, I could do with a really knowledgeable, competent chief of staff. Can't I tempt you?"

  "I'm sorry, Elleroth, to disappoint you, but I've thought about this very carefully, and I'm certain that my best chance of getting back to Suba is to make for Nybril and try to come by a boat."

  Elleroth nodded. "You're right, I dare say. An epitaph, on my behalf-no chief of staff. So be it. But Captain Zen-Kurel, surely I can tempt you, can't I? We really do stand in need of another experienced, able company commander. Since Chalcon we've lost two or three senior officers we could very ill spare. Won't you come with us and help to cut Kembri to pieces?"

  "It's tempting," he answered, "and like Anda-Nokomis, I'm flattered. But the hard fact is that I'm still an officer of King Karnat's staff. That appointment's never been terminated, as far as I know. So I'm afraid it follows that I've got to do all I can to get back."

  "Ah, well: easy come, easy go. But now, Maia! Maia Serrelinda! You'll come to Bekla with us, won't you? Or would you rather go with Zirek, to be rewarded by Santil? I'll be more than happy to give you a letter telling him what you've done for us, and I've no doubt Ta-Kominion would be glad to as well."

  As Elleroth waited for her reply, Maia looked up to see

  all four of them regarding her intently. She colored; yet her answer came without hesitation.

  "My lord, a little while back you said something as made me think you may already know that I'm Suban."

  "Well, I've-er-heard something to that effect, yes."

  "I want to go to Suba."

  "You mean, to live there?"

  Returning his gaze, she remained silent.

  "But why, Maia?"

  "Because I'm Suban, my lord."

  "But mightn't that be rather-er-difficult for you?"

  She stood up. "And I think Lord Anda-Nokomis is quite right. Going to Nybril will be our best way, my lord. I wonder whether you'd be so good as to excuse me now? It's been a long day and I'm that done up: I'll be back for supper, of course." Taking his hands, she smiled at him no less dazzlingly than she had once smiled at Selperron from her golden jekzha. "I'm very much looking forward to it."

  She went out. After a few moments Elleroth crossed to the sideboard, picked up the wine-jug and refilled the cups.

  "Well, dear lads, that's certainly put me in my place, hasn't it? And it's rather put paid to the turncoat theory as well, don't you think? Suba: h'm! There's really no accounting for tastes, is there? No offense, Anda-Nokomis, I assure you, but I imagine there's bound to be a certain change in her life-style, to say the least. Er-is all well with you, my dear Katrian comrade?"

  Zen-Kurel was staring before him with an expression of agitated and baffled amazement.

  "Suba? The girl must have gone out of her mind! They'll tear her limb from limb!"

  "Not if I have anything to do with it," said Bayub-Otal.

  "Not if you do," said Elleroth. He looked quizzically for a moment from one of them to the other. "Well, now I must be off: there are a few things to be seen to in the camp before we meet again for supper. Do make yourselves comfortable. There's hot water whenever you want it. Just tell one of the orderlies."

  He went out, singing to himself just audibly,

  "As I roved out-one early-y mor-orning, To view the forest and to take the air, I there did meet with a fair pretty mai-aiden-"

  His voice, receding, died away as the servants came in to tidy the room and lay the table for supper.

  96: A NIGHT ENCOUNTER

  The next morning was again clear-skied and as hot as ever. Almost every available man, including many of the Or-telgans, ha
d been sent across the river to continue cutting the forest-track under Mollo's direction, and there were not a great many, apart from Elleroth himself, Zirek and Ta-Kominion, to wish god-speed to Maia and her two companions. Their escort-none other than Tolis and tryzatt Miarn, with twenty men-assembled outside Maia's shelter to accompany her to Elleroth's headquarters. They had brought a litter for her, but she smilingly declined it.

  "I'd rather walk, and that's no more 'n the plain truth," she said to Tolis. "After all, 'tain't as if it was all that far to Nybril. Tell you what, though; if I get tired, I'll jump in the river and swim."

  At this there was a general laugh, for naturally her fame as a swimmer was well-known to everyone. It was not more than twenty miles down river to Nybril, but in view of the heat and his wish to be as considerate as possible to his guests, Elleroth had begged them to take two days over it.

  "Why don't we make a raft and just float down?" Maia had asked him at supper the night before.

  "A raft for twenty-six people?"

  "No, just the three of us."

  "You're having an escort because of the very real risk of bandits and cut-throats," he answered. "We can't rule out the possibility of some sort of robbers with boats on the river. That's the sort of thing the Leopards have reduced the empire to. Cran only knows how long it's going to take to restore law and order when we've taken Bekla."

  They had given her new shoes and a brand-new cloak and tunic. (She couldn't help wondering where they had come from. The truth was Elleroth had sent to Sarkid for them, about twelve miles each way.) Her Beklan cloak and tunic had been ruined in the forest and the river, but fortunately the new tunic, like the old one, had pockets capacious enough to hold her money and valuables.

  She felt in good shape and ready for anything. The most

  substantial reason for this-even stronger than the idolization of the soldiers and Elleroth's unconcealed regard- was the complete change in Anda-Nokomis's manner towards her. Often, during those days at the farm, she had felt wretchedly certain that nothing could ever alter his aversion and contempt-no, not if she were to call down Lespa to carry him to Melvda-Rain and crown him with stars. Her deed in Suba, with its terrible (and unintended) consequences, had put her beyond the pale, and all she had done since or ever could do was doomed to be regarded as worthless.