That evening they went downstairs to eat, Dann for the first time, the proprietor congratulating him on his recovery; and Dann said, ‘Let’s go to the Transit. I need a change.’
17
In the street a couple of men strode fast towards them and then turned around to look at Mara, and Dann said, ‘What a lucky fellow I am, to be with such a beautiful woman.’
His tone was affected, even coquettish, as if he were observing himself with a congratulating eye; and she thought, her heart heavy, its beat repeating A trap, A trap, that she would never have believed him capable of that dandyish drawl. When he had said he was not himself, that was the truth: a Dann she did not know strolled along at her side, and she could almost see in his hand a flower, holding it to his lips, teasing them with it, as some of the men – but what kind of men? – were doing as they walked, casting glances over the flowers at the women, and the men too. And in a moment Dann had reached out to a hedge and torn off a bright red flower. She was silently begging him, Don’t raise it to your lips, as if his not doing it would be proof of his safety – and he did not, only twirled it between his fingers. This was not a pleasant area, the route to the Transit Eating House. Mara, who had been so captivated by this town that she had refused to see anything unpleasant, now made herself look at the ugliness of these poor streets, at a woman with her brows drawn tight and her mouth set, a child whose flesh was tight on his bones, a man with defeat written on his face.
The Transit was a large building, spilling out lights, and its customers coming and going populated the street outside. Their faces were restless and excited – like Dann’s now. The room they went into was very large, brightly lit, and crammed full. Here were mostly men, and Mara saw at once that she was the only woman there wearing an ordinary garment. All the rest were young, some not much more than children, and they wore flimsy, transparent skirts, with breasts just covered or not at all. Dann and she sat down and were at once brought beakers of strong-smelling drink. It was a grain drink, of the kind she had helped make in Chelops. The place was very noisy. No point in Dann’s or her even trying to speak, unless they wanted to shout. Again this was a mix of peoples, some of kinds they had not seen before, and the languages they were overhearing were strange to them. This was a place, then, not for Bilma’s inhabitants, but for the traders and travellers and visitors.
A tap on Mara’s shoulder. ‘You want to change money?’ she heard, and a waiter pointed across the room to a door that was shut, unlike most doors in this place. She told Dann she would not be long, and across the room she went.
It was a small room, for transactions and business, and in it was waiting for her a fat old woman who scarcely came up to her shoulder. She was very black, so she did not come from this region. She wore a handsome, scarlet, shiny dress whose skirts seemed to bounce around her as she walked back to a chair behind a plain plank table. She sat, and pointed Mara to an empty chair.
Her examination of Mara was brisk, frank and impartial: she might have been assessing a bale of new cloth.
‘How much do you want to change?’
Mara took out one gold coin from her pocket, where she had it ready, and then took out another. She was remembering the recurrent anxieties about changing money.
‘I shall give you more than the market-place value.’
Mara smiled, meaning this old woman to see that she, Mara, did not think this was saying much. And in fact this crone – she was really old, in spite of her scarlet flounces and the glitter of earrings and necklaces – was ready to smile too, sharing Mara’s criticism: it was the way of the world, her smile said.
‘My name is Dalide,’ she said. ‘I have been changing money for as many years as you have lived.’
‘I am twenty-two.’
‘You are in the best of your beauty.’
Mara could have sworn that Dalide could easily have leaned forward and opened her mouth to examine her teeth, and then pinch her flesh here and there between fingers that had many times assessed the exact degree of a young woman’s toothsomeness.
Mara put down the two gold coins. Dalide picked one up, while the other hand fondled the second coin. ‘I have never seen these,’ Dalide said. ‘Who is this person?’ – pointing at the faint outline of a face, probably male, on the coin.
‘I have no idea.’
‘Gold is gold,’ said Dalide. ‘But gold as old as this is even better.’ She pulled out bags of coins from a bigger bag, and began laying out in front of Mara piles of coins of differing values, meanwhile giving emphatic glances at Mara as each new pile was completed. These were not the flimsy coins she had been carrying about, making a light mass of money that you had to pay out in handfuls. Dalide was giving her coins that would be easy to handle and be changed, yet each worth a good bit. Mara counted them. She knew roughly what she should expect, and this was not far off. She swept the coins into a cloth bag she had with her, and Dalide exclaimed, ‘You aren’t going to walk through the streets at night with that on you?’
‘Do I have an alternative?’
‘If you didn’t have your brother I’d send my bodyguard with you.’
‘People are very well informed about us.’
‘You are an interesting couple.’
‘And why is that?’
Dalide did not answer, but said, ‘Would you like me to find you a good husband?’
And now Mara laughed, because of the incongruity.
Dalide did not laugh. ‘A good husband,’ she insisted.
‘Well,’ said Mara, still laughing, ‘what would it cost me? Could I buy a husband with this?’ And she shook her bag of coins so they clinked.
‘Not quite,’ said Dalide, and waited for Mara to say how much money she had.
Mara said, ‘I do not have enough money to buy a husband.’ And added, laughing, ‘Not a good one.’
Dalide nodded, allowing herself a brief smile, as a little concession to Mara. ‘I can change money for you – as you know. And I can find you a husband for a price.’
‘I’m not flattered that you think I would have to buy myself a husband. Not so long ago I had a husband without money ever being mentioned.’ And she could not prevent her eyes from filling.
Dalide nodded, seeing her tears. ‘Hard times,’ she said briskly.
‘Surely not in this town. If these are hard times, then I don’t know what you’d say if I told you what I’ve seen.’
‘What have you seen?’ asked Dalide softly.
Mara saw no reason to be secretive and said, ‘I’ve watched Ifrik drying up since I was a tiny child. I’ve seen things you’d not believe.’
‘I was a child in the River Towns. In Goidel. I was playing with my sisters when a slaver snatched me – I was for some years a slave in Kharab. I escaped. I was beautiful. I used men and became independent. Now I’m a rich woman. But there isn’t much you could tell me about hardship.’
Mara looked at this ugly old thing and thought that she had been beautiful. She said, ‘If I need you, I’ll come back.’ She got up, and so did Dalide. As Mara went to the door, Dalide came too, and they left the business room behind. ‘Are you coming with me?’ asked Mara, seeing how everyone in the big room turned to look at this grotesque old woman in her scarlet and her fine jewels.
‘I don’t work here,’ said Dalide. ‘I only came to meet you. I wanted to have a good look at you.’
‘And you’ve done that.’
‘I’ve done that. So, goodbye – for now.’
Dalide made her way out of the crowded room and Mara looked for Dann, but he had disappeared. Then the same waiter, seeing her standing here, pointed at another door, this time an open one. She went in. And saw a smaller room full of tables where mostly men were gambling. Dann stood by one, with Bergos, and watched the fast movement of the hands throwing dice. She went to Dann, who when he saw her said, ‘Let’s go home.’ He sounded irritated. If she had not come then, he would soon have been seated among the gamblers. Dann exchanged a few
low words with Bergos. Mara and he went out into the street, which was not crowded now. Mara was conscious of the heavy bag of coins which she was trying to conceal, and said, ‘Dann, let’s go quickly.’ And he said, ‘How much did you get?’
And now for the first time in her life Mara lied to him and said she had changed one gold coin and not two.
When they got safely back to the room, Mara fiddled with the coins, so that they would not seem as many as there were, sitting half turned from Dann. She gave him half of the worth of one coin, and told him that their gold coins were not known here and probably were much more valuable than they knew.
Dann lay on his bed looking up out of the window at the moon that was coming up again to the full. His face – oh, how afraid she felt, seeing it; and then he was asleep, and she could look directly at him, and wonder, Is that the new Dann, who seemed to be her enemy, or was it the real Dann, her friend? How was it possible that a person can turn into somebody not himself, just like that … But perhaps this new person, whom she disliked and feared, was the real person, not the one she thought of as real. After all, when he had been General Dann, with that boy, what was he then?
She slept with the little bag of money under her arm, and in the morning Dann was not there. The proprietor said he had gone out for a walk with Bergos. Mara paid him what was owed, and he said, ‘So, how did you find Mother Dalide?’ Mara merely smiled at him, meaning, Mind your own business, while feeling it was probably his business too, and felt herself go quite cold when she heard him whisper, ‘Be careful. You must be careful.’ And then, as he glanced about for possible eavesdroppers, ‘Leave. You must leave this town.’
And now there was a lot she wanted to ask, but had to stand back as some people came to ask for rooms. She and Dann had said that there were people who liked them very much and helped them: was this man one? More people wanted to pay their bills and leave. So Mara thought, I’ll ask him later, when I can get him alone, and she went out. She wanted to walk up a little hill that overlooked the town, so as to get a good view of it, spread out; but she was feeling so uneasy she sat down at a table outside an inn in the central part, where customers ate and drank under a canopy of green leaves and red flowers. They also watched people passing on the pavement, and commented on them and their clothes. And the passers seemed to know they were being discussed and did not mind, but on the contrary were self-conscious, like performers.
Mara knew that she was being observed. In this town surveillance was discreet, invisible; she did not believe it was the police who were watching her now. Who, then?
A girl passing with a tray of some kind of yellow drink, put a mug of it down in front of Mara, who was suddenly sure that this mug had been apart from the others, put there for a purpose. She put back the mug on the tray and took another. The girl gave her an offended look. Mara thought, Well, it might have been poisoned, anything is possible. I should go away from here – meaning both this place and Bilma. But having got up, she sat down again, for she had seen Dann coming along the street with Bergos and a new man, a Mahondi – a real one? Yes, he was, like herself and Dann. She liked the look of him as much as she disliked Bergos. The three men sat down at a table well away from her, but she knew Dann had seen her, and was pretending not to. They sat chatting, out of earshot.
Mara could scarcely breathe, the oppression on her heart was so great. Never could she have believed that Dann and she could be in the same place, and he pretend he had not seen her. This cheerful, noisy scene – people drinking and eating, talking and lazing, all under a little ceiling of greenery and flowers – lost its charm, and all she could see were vulgar or foolish faces, and Dann, as he talked with Bergos, seemed no better.
Her heart was hurting, her eyes hurt. Why was she trying so hard to run, always running and fighting so hard for her life and for Dann’s life? What for? Now she seemed absurd to herself, this little, frightened fugitive, always glancing over her shoulder, always alert for thieves, guarding Dann or, when he was not there, worrying about him. Mara looked back down her life, from the moment when she had stood up to ‘the bad one’ in her parents’ house, and seemed to herself like a scurrying little beetle.
And now the thought arrived in her mind, as she watched Bergos, that the person who had been organising her surveillance – had been Bergos. It was he whom she had to fear. And those who employed him. Who? Dalide? But what could she be hoping to get out of her, apart from a fee as a marriage broker?
Mara thought she would get up, deliberately and slowly, to be noticed, go to where the men sat, smile prettily at all three, talk a little, then refuse their invitation that she should sit down. Then leave. But suppose they did not invite her to sit down? She quietly rose, slipped away through a side door in the leafy screen, and walked as fast as she could to the hill, not looking now to see who observed her. She did not care what happened to her. There were footsteps behind her. From their speed she understood how fast she was walking. Dann caught up with her, and took her arm. She shook him off and walked on. He was beside her. He did not speak until they were at the top of the low hill, where there was a big garden, or park, which on its north side had a tall fence, with guards along it.
‘Stop, Mara, let us sit down.’
There was a bench. A glance told her that here was ‘her’ Dann, not the other one, as she now called the impostor. He was grave, affable, composed and was smiling at her. He put his hand over hers.
‘Mara. Don’t go on being angry, please.’
The angry, protesting thoughts that were filling her mind faded away. ‘Who is that Mahondi?’
‘His name is Darian. He has just come from Shabis. He has news. But first …’ He took from an inner pocket a coil of heavy, dull metal, beaten silver, and held it out to her. It was a bangle, but for the upper arm, not the wrist, meant to fit close. It was a serpent, and the head end was slightly raised, to strike. Mara slid it up on to her upper arm, easing it over the elbow joint, and saw how well it looked. Then she let the sleeve fall over it, the lovely sleeve with its delicate, shadowy patterns. ‘Take it off again.’ Mara did so. He pressed the tail of the serpent where there was a little indentation, and a knife shot out of its mouth, a mere sliver of glittering metal. Dann pressed again and the knife slid back. ‘It’s poisoned. Immediate death.’ Then, because of her unease: ‘Shabis sent it to you.’
‘A loving present.’
‘Yes, Mara, it is. He said to Darian that if you had had this when the Hennes patrol captured you, you could have killed them all and escaped.’
Mara slid it back up her arm, and let the sleeve fall.
‘It’s so pretty,’ said Dann, stroking the sleeve, and through it, her. ‘And now, there’s news, but it isn’t good. After we ran away, half of the Hennes army escaped. This is what Shabis told the other three generals would happen. Our army chased their army back to the line of the watchtowers, where the Hennes made a stand. There was a terrible battle. They held their territory. Our army retreated back to our lines. So all that happened was that thousands of people got killed, soldiers and civilians too. Neanthes, Hennes and Thores civilians.’
‘So everything is exactly as it was?’
‘Yes. Stalemate.’
‘Oh no,’ she said, rebellious, ‘no, nothing stays the same.’
‘But it has all been like that for years. What can change it?’
‘Drought, for one.’
‘Drought, drought … that’s how we see everything, because of what we’ve seen. But here there isn’t going to be drought. Floods are more in Bilma’s line.’
And now both of them, brother and sister, he still holding her forearm, turned to look down at Bilma spread out there, gardens and houses, parks and houses, fountains everywhere. She heard his sigh. She saw his face change, and instinctively drew her arm away. He did not notice, he was looking over to where the big, pleasant houses spread on the slopes there.
‘Mara, why don’t we stay here?’ She shook her head, and agai
n felt the nets of danger closing around her. ‘I want to show you something.’ He pulled her up from the bench, and they walked with their backs to the town to where the tall fence dipped down the other side of the hill. The guards watched them. ‘Darian showed me this, early this morning. We came here.’ Where the fence began to descend the hill, they could see through it down to where, at the foot of the hill, was a long, low building, with platforms on either side. Running north from the building were two parallel lines, close together, shining gently in the sunlight. From a platform, something that looked like a long, covered box was in the process of being pushed along the lines by a group of young men. The lines ran north, at first through light forest and then through grassland. The two stood silent, watching how the young men pushing the box laboured, their backs bent. Twenty of them, and then half ran past the box and picked up some ropes, or lines, invisible to them where they stood on the hill, and went ahead, pulling, as the ten behind pushed.
‘That is the way out of Bilma,’ said Dann.
‘And who is in that – conveyance?’
‘Who do you suppose? Can’t you see the guards? The rich use it. Those lines run north to the next town, Kanaz. Once there were machines that ran on their own power on lines like those.’
‘Once? Oh I suppose the usual thousands of years ago?’
‘No. Two or three hundred, they are not sure. But now slaves do the work.’
‘I didn’t know there were slaves in Bilma.’
‘They aren’t called slaves. Mara, Darian wants me to join him as a labourer pushing the coaches – that is what they are called. And when we get to the next town, or the one after – run away.’ And, before he said it, she knew what she would hear. ‘I’d rather die, Mara. I’ve done that, pushing dead machines up and down hills.’
‘And not long ago you were General Dann.’ She smiled at him, meaning to tease him a little, but saw his face was dark and angry. Her Dann was not there. This Dann would not take my hand, hold my arm, so simply and nicely, out of affection for me.
Mara and Dann Page 40
