39: BY THE BARB

By sunset Maia was feeling refreshed and ready for the evening. Despite Occula's reproach, she felt neither shame nor regret about what she had done with Sednil. His famished necessity and corresponding ardor, his being a person of much the same station in life as herself (which had made her feel delightfully relaxed) and (perhaps most pleasant) the knowledge that she had enjoyed something illicit which could not now be taken away—all these, adding up to a real sense of satisfaction, had left her in a happy, confident mood, so that Terebinthia, while looking through the wardrobe with her, thought fit to remark that she had better take care not to let her high spirits run away with her at the Barb party; to which Maia replied pertly that she felt sure Terebinthia would like her to do all she could to bring back a good, big lygol.

"I doubt there'll be any lygols tonight," answered Terebinthia. "I rather think the High Counselor will want to keep you both to himself. And you'd be well-advised to remain content with that. Remember Meris."

"Why isn't he taking Milvushina, though, säiyett?" asked Maia. "I mean, I thought he liked to show what a lot of everything he's got, and we've been out in public once today already."

"I rather imagine—" Terebinthia hesitated. "A lot of provincial barons will be there tonight and I think that possibly he may not want to ran the risk of anyone recognizing her. But you're not to repeat that."

"No, säiyett, 'course I won't. Oh, look! Can I wear that?"

It was a yellow-and-white tunic, broad-lapelled and buttoning down the front, with flared, embroidered lappets doing duty for a skirt. The buttons were topaz, as were the eyes of the leopards embroidered on the flapped pockets. Maia tried it on. It fitted well, and Terebinthia nodded approval.

"You'll need to wear a low-cut shift underneath, and short enough in the hem not to show beneath the lappets, too. With legs like yours that will do very well."

Neither Terebinthia nor Maia could have had the least inkling of how well it would have to do—or for how long.

At this moment Occula appeared. She seemed edgy and preoccupied. She was wearing her orange metlan and leather hunting-jacket, her gold nose-stud and necklace of teeth— the costume which Maia had first seen in the slavers' depot at Puhra. It certainly did suit her, she thought; and it was nice that as a result of her own widened experience of clothes during these last months she had come to think more and not less highly of Occula's taste.

"Do you think that's quite suitable for the High Baron's party, Occula?" asked Terebinthia. Once, thought Maia, she would simply have told her to go and take it off.

"I'd like to wear it, säiyett, if I may," answered Occula. "Yes, I think it suits me and I always feel confident in it."

"Well, I don't know whether the High Counselor's going to agree with you," said Terebinthia. "But if that's how you— What is it, Ogma?"—as the club-footed girl came hurrying in.

"The High Counselor's awake, säiyett, and wants you to go and see him at once," said Ogma.

"Banzi," said Occula, as Terebinthia went out, "just come back to my room for a minute."

Once there she closed the door and then, taking out of her box the squat, black image of Kantza-Merada, placed it in Maia's hands.

"Keep her safe, banzi," she said. "Either keep her yourself or if you have to, destroy her—burn her—<fyou see? Doan' lose her, and doan' ever let anyone else have her."

"Why, Occula, Whatever's the matter? You've been so strange—well, all day, really. Is it an omen you've had, or what? Anyone'd think you reckoned you weren't com-ing back here."

Very deliberately, Occula put her two hands on Maia's shoulders and kissed her.

"I loved you, banzi. I was always straight with you. Doan' ever forget that, will you? Look, I'm goin' to hide Kantza-Merada under the floorboard here, along with the money." Then before Maia could answer, "Now let's get you dressed in that tunic thing. Are you goin' to put your hair up? I think you should—but at that rate you'll need combs. Where are they? Then we can all go and have a jolly romp with Piggy, can' we?"

Sencho was also in good spirits, and with reason. Four years before, in return for his part in the appointment of the present chief priest of Cran, he had succeeded in bringing it about that the High Counselor should in future receive one-twelfth of the annual temple revenues, payable after each spring festival. While eating the chief priest's roast quails that afternoon, he had learned that the twelfth due to him for this year was a larger sum than he had expected, partly on account of the temple's recent recovery, with substantial interest, of a loan made to Lalloc, and partly on account of its share of the confiscated estate of Enka-Mordet. He was also twelve thousand meld to the good over Dyphna, and expected to get a new girl for not much more.

The Barb party was an occasion which he usually enjoyed. Flattery, sycophantic servility from men higher born than himself, the exercise of power and the granting of favors on profitable terms as and when it suited him— these things he relished. The food would be excellent; and there would, of course, be other pleasures. He felt fully recovered from his recent indisposition (which must, he now felt, have been due to nothing more than the depressing effect of the rainy season) and delightfully full of his customary appetites. During the time when he had not been himself the black girl had done well. She had turned out most skillful and reliable. Expensive as they had been, he had shown himself sharp in buying her and the Tonildan. Lying in the bath and enjoying Milvushina's ill-con-cealed aversion to washing him, he had the two girls brought in, approved their clothes and then told Terebinthia to make sure that they were equipped with towels, extra cushions and everything else necessary to his comfort. Milvushina had just finished drying him when Ogma appeared to announce the arrival of the litter-bearers.

The distance to the lake known as the Barb, beside which Durakkon's guests were to meet, was not much over half a mile—about twenty minutes' journey for the heavy litter. Near the foot of the Leopard Hill the curving, northern shore was laid out as an arboreal garden, its lawns extending down to the water. There were groves of willows and cypresses, and two great zoan trees standing on either side of the inlet known as the Pool of Light. Planted about the lawns were scented shrubs—flendro, witch-hazel, jain-gum, capercaraira and many more—and arbors of evergreens to give shelter, when necessary, from the wind.

Tonight, however, was almost as mild and balmy as midsummer, with a half moon already high in a cloudless sky. The scent of spring flowers filled the air and not the least breeze ruffled the surface of the water or stirred the foliage. Nevertheless, in case anyone should feel cold, charcoal braziers had been placed here and there, and from a distance these glowed and twinkled between the trunks of the trees. A chain of colored lamps—pink, blue and green—surrounded the widest of the lawns, ending (or beginning) at the entrance in a serpent's head and tail, in imitation of that encircling the pavement of the temple. Here a gold-clad equerry was receiving the guests and presenting them to Durakkon and his wife, beside whom Elvair-ka-Virrion was standing as proxy for his father. Fordil and his musicians were already playing—some gentle, plaintive Yeldashay melody which carried softly on the shadowy air; while some way off, beside a grove of birches, the cooks had set up their kitchen, with fires burning in trenches under grills and spits. At a little distance beyond, the southern end of the gardens was closed by a thicket of zoan trees, mixed with evergreens—juniper and ilex.

A considerable number of guests had already arrived and were strolling on the grass or sitting on benches near the water. Maia caught sight of Sarget and two or three of his friends, and as she and Occula followed Sencho's litter several young men, including Shend-Lador, smiled or waved to them, but clearly felt it more prudent, in the High Counselor's presence, not to go the length of approaching or speaking to his girls.

It did not take Maia long to realize that they might have another reason. This was, she sensed, a rather more staid occasion than any upper city party which she had hitherto attended. It was true that a few shearnas were present in company with younger men, but jnost of the women looked like the wives or grown daughters of barons and similar notables. Also, she soon perceived that a large proportion of the guests were visitors from the provinces, and important ones at that. Many were wearing jewelled cognizances—the fountains of Kabin, the Paltesh fortress, the corn-sheaves of Sarkid and the like.

Once, as they passed by, she heard Yeldashay Spoken, and a few minutes later quickly averted her gaze from a dark man of about twenty-eight or nine, his face sickeningly disfigured and seamed with scars, whose fur-cloaked shoulder was adorned with a golden bear emblem.

"That's Bel-ka-Trazet, the High Baron of Ortelga," whispered Occula.

"Give me a regular turn, he did! 'Nough to give anyone the creeps!"

"He's famous as a hunter. Durakkon invites him to hunt."

While many of the guests—especially the Beklans—were dressed in the fine, well-cut materials and glowing colors to which Maia had grown accustomed in the upper city, the clothes of several of the older provincial visitors suggested clearly enough that they were not—to say the least— over-particular about niceties of style and fashion. Her eye fell upon a shock-haired, stubbly-bearded man leaning on a thumb-stick and looking like nothing so much as an old drover, who was surrounded by five or six people plainly full of respect and gratified to be in his company.

"Whoever's that?" she asked Occula.

"No idea, banzi, but he could easily be a baron from somewhere quite important. A lot of the provincial barons make a point of comin' up to Bekla for the spring festival. Their wives enjoy it, and I dare say they often feel like a bit of an outin' themselves after being shut up all through Melekril; and then, of course, some of them have to pay their tribute, renew their vows to their overlord—all that sort of thing. Or they may want to have a word with Durakkon, or just let him see they're still about. Barons who sulk in their own dumps all the year round are apt to be regarded with suspish, you know. You can bet Piggy's goin' to be noticin' all right—who's here and who isn', I mean.

A lot of them almost make a point of not dressin' up for it—you know, they're not all that wealthy, some of them, and they're proud. They reckon what's good enough for Kowshittika's good enough for Bekla, and they doan' care who sees it."

"Well, I reckon, all this lot, 's a pity Milvushina isn't here 'stead o' me," said Maia. "Be more in her line than mine. Might have done her a bit of good, too."

"That's why she's not been brought, of course," said Occula. "Truth is, I think Piggy's begun to realize he may have bitten off a bit more than he could chew when he helped himself to Milvushina like that. I only hope to Cran he doesn' decide the safest thing's to put her out of the way."

"You really think he'd do that?"

"I'm bastin' well sure of it, banzi. You've never really got it through your head, have you, what a cruel brute he is? Still, never mind that now. Here we are, I think."

They had come to a stretch of turf close by the waterside and not far from the kitchens and supper tables. The soldiers put the litter down and Sencho was helped by the girls to rise and take a few steps as far as a low bank, bordered by flowerbeds, where a kind of divan had been prepared with cushions and brightly-colored rugs. Maia busied herself in making him comfortable, while Occula gave instructions to Durakkon's butler—who had been waiting for the High Counselor—about what he wished to drink.

Maia herself was exhilarated by the atmosphere and arrangement of the party, which was rather like an aristocratic version of a village festival. For those who wanted to eat formally there were tables under the trees, and here slaves waited upon any guest who came and sat down. Many, however, preferred simply to go to the cooks' tables, get their plates filled and then join groups of friends beside the water or in the arbors. She caught sight of the drover-baron walking about, gnawing a drumstick as he made himself agreeable to old friends: no one appeared to think him in the least odd.

Sencho displayed all his habitual gluttony, more than once requiring Maia to bring three or four different dishes together, in order that he might taste each before deciding what to enjoy next. His greed, however, was leisurely and interspersed with much talk and business. The two girls, carrying out their duties as unobtrusively as possible, were frequently required to stand aside as people approached, ostensibly to greet him and pay their respects, but in reality to beg favors, offer some promise, bribe or bargain, or circumspectly try to influence him against an enemy or rival. Sencho, often seeming, disconcertingly, to know as much about their affairs as they did themselves, said for the most part much less than the suppliants, while they for their part became more and more loquacious and self-revealing in their efforts to move him. Now and then he was deliberately and insultingly inattentive; yet once, when a baron from Paltesh mentioned something relating to the affairs of an Urtan dowager who had begged a favor of him an hour earlier, he instantly connected the two and told Maia to go and find the woman and tell her to return. It was clear to both girls—the only witnesses of the earlier interview—that he meant to make use of the young baron to prove her a liar and put her out of countenance.

Going up through the gardens on this errand, she happened upon Elvair-ka-Virrion. He was leaning against a tree, sharing raisins from a silver bowl with a tall, dark-haired young woman and her brother (or at all events, thought Maia, the two of them looked very much alike). Seeing her, he at once called her over.

"Maia!" said Elvair-ka-Virrion, smiling and taking her arm for a moment as though they had been equals.

"You grow more beautiful every day."

She felt embarrassed, knowing that if he persisted in conversing with her it must sooner or later transpire that she was a slave. Might as well get it over with, she thought. She murmured something, raised a palm to her forehead and stood waiting with bent head.

"This is what our slave-girls look like in Bekla nowadays," said Elvair-ka-Virrion to his companions.

"You ought to come and live here, T'maa."

The young man laughed and said something complimentary.

"Are you attending on the High Counselor?" asked Elvair-ka-Virrion.

"Yes, my lord. I must go now, an' all—he's sent me to find someone, you see."

She was off before he could say more, but after a few yards found him at her elbow.

"Maia, is Milvushina here tonight?"

"No, my lord. He left her at home."

"That's the son and daughter of a Yeldashay baron with me. They've been asking about her. They knew she was alive: they say everyone in Chalcon knows what's happened to her."

Maia made no reply.

"If the three of us were to go to Sencho's house now, do you think your Terebinthia woman would let us see Milvushina?"

"For money, my lord, yes, I'm pretty sure she would. But you really must let me go now, please: I'll be in trouble else." And once more she left him.

However, her errand was still not to be free from interruptions. Searching along the waterside, she could not resist stopping for a moment to admire the swans. Three or four of them, attracted like moths to the light, had swum up to the edge of the lake and, their white plumage tinged now rosy, now blue or green as they oared back and forth between the lamps, were taking food thrown to them by the guests.

One of these, turning suddenly, revealed himself as Bayub-Otal. Before she could hurry away he had caught up with her.

"I suppose you're with the High Counselor, Maia," he said, falling into step beside her on the path.

"Yes, my lord."

"And is that pleasant?"

"I've told you before, my lord; I'm a slave."

For a few moments he made no reply, only watching her as she darted glances among the people they passed.

"Whom are you looking for?"

"A lady as the High Counselor's sent me to find."

Suddenly he stopped dead, gripping her by the wrist so hard and unexpectedly that she was brought up standing with a jolt. She gave a quick cry of vexation, but then, restraining herself, stood looking up at him silently.

"You—you don't have to go on being a slave, you know," he said abruptly.

"What, my lord?"

"I said, you needn't go on being a slave. You can leave that brute before he does you any more harm. If you want, you can leave Bekla and become—well, become a real woman."

"I don't understand, my lord. What do you mean?"

"Not what I believe you suppose. I won't say more now, but if ever you come to think better of yourself, Maia—if you want to leave Bekla—you've only to tell me—that's if I'm still here to be told."

"If you mean as you want to buy me, my lord, then I think you'd better speak to the High Counselor yourself. Then you—"

But he was gone, turning on his heel and striding away between the bushes and the colored lamps. She stared after him a moment, then shrugged her shoulders and was going on her way when suddenly she caught sight of the Urtan dowager talking to Durakkon himself.

The lady, plainly flustered by Maia's message, immediately excused herself to Durakkon (shows which one she's more afraid of, thought Maia) and hurried away over the lawn. Maia followed more slowly, wondering exactly what Bayub-Otal might have meant. She had better consult Occula, she thought, once they could be alone together.

At this moment she was surprised to see Occula herself approaching along a path through the trees. She was plainly in a hurry, peering here and there and looking, thought Maia, really upset—almost beside herself. Several people turned to stare as she passed them.

Maia ran up to her. "Occula, I couldn't help it! I only just found the old lady—she was talking to the High Baron. She's gone to see Sencho just this minute—"

Occula appeared scarcely to have heard her.

"Banzi! Thank Cran I found you! Look, keep away, d'you see? Doan' go back to him—not on any account! Leave him to me, d'you understand?"

"Oh, Occula, is he angry? Honestly, I couldn't have been any quicker—"

"No, no, he's not angry: I can' explain. But keep away! Doan' go back, that's all! Leave me to see to him."

"But whatever—I mean, how long for?"

"Well—until—oh, banzi, doan' ask!"

Occula paused. Her breath was coming fast and she was trembling. "Hell, I ought to have sent you back home to fetch somethin', oughtn' I? You'd have swallowed that. Look, banzi, just keep out of the way for—well, say, for half an hour."

"All right, dear; if you say so. But are you sure you can manage him by yourself?"

"Yes! Yes! Give me a kiss, banzi; my dear, dearest banzi! Good-bye!"

Maia kissed her and Occula, with what sounded like a quick sob, instantly suppressed, hastened away across the grass.

Maia, once more alone, tried to imagine what could possibly have put her into such a state. It was bewildering. At least, however, she had said that Sencho wasn't angry; that was reassuring.

Suddenly she knew what it must be. That crass, clumsy fool Bayub-Otal had then and there gone and asked Sencho to sell her to him. Yes, of course, that must be it! And Occula had been afraid that if she, Maia, came back in the middle, while Bayub-Otal was still talking to Sencho, he might make a scene, or she might lose her head and start begging Sencho to let her go. Whereas Occula reckoned that if she herself could only spend half an hour alone with Sencho when he'd got rid of Bayub-Otal, she could probably cool him down.

But then, how ought she to act when she did return? Or, simply wait and see; it would all depend. He might be drunk by that time, or Occula might have gratified him and got him off to sleep. Or better still, he might want her, Maia, to gratify him: that would put her beyond any risk of his displeasure.

The mood of the party, she noticed, was beginning to change. Most of the older people seemed to be leaving. Not far away, a little group of obvious heldril were making their farewells to Durakkon, while near-by she could hear a grizzled baron saying something to his wife about the evening having lasted long enough. She turned back towards the lake, and as she did so two young men ran past her, one waving a flagon and calling out the name of Shend-Lador. Evidently the younger Leopards were now intending to make a night of it. Would Sencho be more likely to stay or go? she wondered. On the one hand his greed, now indulged, might dispose him to sleep, but on the other his lust might cause him to remain awake for a while yet.

A little distance away she could hear shouts and laughter. There were cries of "Go on!" 

"Go on, Sychar!" Then a splash was followed by ironical cheering. Looking in the direction of the noise, she could make out dark figures dodging about, obscuring and again revealing the colored lamps among the trees.

The swans were no longer to be seen. How nice it would be, she thought, simply to take off her clothes and plunge into the water—just to strike out into the moonlit emptiness for a good, long swim. Of course, this silly old Barb was nothing to Lake Serrelind. How long was it, she wondered—half a mile? Not much more.

The further end was only two or three hundred yards away from Sencho's house. What fun it would be to swim down there—she could do it in half an hour, easy—oh, yes, less—and then just climb out, like one of those water-nymphs in old Drigga's stories, and walk in. Ah, and she could just see Terebinthia's face an' all—

"Maia! All alone? What are you doing now—just going to bathe, were you?"

It was Elvair-ka-Virrion, sauntering alone, apparently at a loose end. As she turned and smiled at him he took her in his arms and kissed her warmly, fondling her body up and down through the smooth, supple material of the tunic.

"Why, my lord, I thought you said as you were going off to see Milvushina?"

"T'maa and his sister have gone. I'm joining them there later. But never mind about that. A moment ago, before you saw me, you were looking as if you'd love to dive in."

"So I would, my lord. Nothing I'd like better!"

"It's deep, you know—deeper than you think. The Pool of Light's more than three times as deep as a man."

"Wouldn't worry me, my lord. Deeper the better!"

"You really can swim, then?"

"In the lake, back home, I used to swim—oh, ever so far."

"Did you?" He stooped quickly, drew one of her arms round his neck and then, with the other under the crook of her knees, lifted her bodily.

"Oh, please don't throw me in, my lord! Not in these clothes—that'd make a right old lot of trouble for me, that would!"

"I'm not going to."

He was carrying her easily along the shore in his arms. Although she had no idea what he had in mind, she could not help enjoying it. Within a minute they had reached the outskirts of the frolic going on round the Pool of Light! About twenty or thirty young Leopards, together with perhaps half as many girls, were gathered along the shore, shouting with laughter as they pelted and cheered on a young man who had plunged in fully clothed and was laboriously splashing his way across the pool, supporting himself on a floating wine-cask. Looking at him, Maia could feel only contempt for his stupid clowning. He was, she felt, merely spoiling and uglifying the whole notion of swimming. It was like as if he'd started hopping about while Fordil was playing the music for the senguela.

Elvair-ka-Virrion put her down.

"Can you swim better than that?"

"Than that, my lord? Dear oh law, that's not swimming! Why, I could dive out of that zoan tree there and be halfway 'cross the pool 'fore anyone'd seen me go!"

"Could you indeed?" said Elvair-ka-Virrion. "Well, if you really can, I'll—"

He stood laughing down at her, his teeth very white in his shadowed face. A girl ran past, calling "Elvair, come on! We're going to pull him out!" Elvair-ka-Virrion ignored her and she disappeared among the bushes.

"Can you?"

"Whatever you say, my lord. But's anyone going to mind if I'm naked? Only—well—all these old heldril, and the High Baron's not far off, either. I don't want no trouble—"

"Trouble— you— naked?" said Elvair-ka-Virrion. "Ha! Don't worry; I'll see to that."

Maia, drawing the combs out of her hair and pocketing them, unbuttoned the embroidered tunic and took it off, together with her shift. Elvair-ka-Virrion stretched out his arms to her, but she smiled and shook her head.

"One thing at a time, my lord. Only this is serious stuff, see?"

With this she ran across the grass to the foot of the zoan not thirty yards away. No one seemed to notice her, for they were all watching the young man struggling out on the further bank. In a moment she had seized a low branch and pulled herself up into the fork. Having taken stock of the tree, the pool and her potential audience, she began edging up a long, sloping bough which extended over the water.

From one branchy handhold to another she inched her way outward, until the thinning bough began to sag under her weight. Go out any further, she thought, and I won't have enough support for a dive. Ah, here was a good place, though—nice and open, no other branches to get in the way and the water—oh, eleven or twelve feet down, perhaps; hard to tell in this light, but it looked deep enough.

At this moment two young men walking along the bank looked up, saw her and stopped in amazement.

Pointing, they called out to others further off. People began running towards the zoan, staring and exclaiming.

"Careful--you'll fall!" 

"No, she won't!" 

"What a pretty girl!" 

"Why not come down and go to bed with me?" 

"Who is she?" 

"Look out!"

"It's the senguela dancer!" cried a voice.

"She's going to dive!" shouted Elvair-ka-Virrion at the top of his voice.

At this there was some derisory laughter and someone shouted "When? Next year?"

Maia, facing the full moon, her toes flexed on the rough, fissured bark, was on the very point of diving when suddenly she saw through the foliage a woman gazing directly up at her. The glimpse, between the faintly-moving, silvery leaves, was like a face seen in a dream—indistinct yet disturbing; arrestingly beautiful, yet in some way menacing too. The wide, commanding eyes, framed in an aureole of hair gleaming in the moonlight, were staring—with approbation, certainly—but also with a kind of intent rapacity which frightened her even as she sensed it.

Startled and thrown off balance, she swayed and for an instant tried to stop short. But this was no longer possible. Thereupon the naturally-acquired skill of years came to her rescue. Her body knew instinctively that it must dive.

To the watchers below there seemed no trace of hesitation. One moment she was standing in the moonlight, high among the zoan boughs. The next she had dived outward, straight and taut, hair streaming and the leafy branch thrashing behind her, to plunge through the surface of the lake with a single, quickly-gone splash and a symmetry of outward-flowing ripples.

In the instant of diving Maia had recognized the watcher below her. It was the Sacred Queen.

These Beklans were no swimmers: that she had known all along. To them, a girl who made nothing of plunging twelve feet into deep water seemed almost miraculous. All round her, from both banks, arose cries of wonder and acclamation. Waving, she turned on her back, arching her breasts clear of the surface and then, with hands gently fanning beneath her, eased herself smoothly towards the center of the pool.

The water was warmer than she had expected. It really was a lovely night for a swim. Should she, after all, simply swim away down the length of the Barb? Ah, but the High Counselor? And then again, she'd better not lose touch with Elvair-ka-Virrion, who'd promised to keep her out of trouble. Still, all these rich people—she might as well show them a thing or two now she'd started. One thing might lead to another, as Occula was always saying.

Swimming towards the shore, she stopped some yards out and lowered her feet, but found no bottom.

A small crowd had gathered on the bank, as near to her as they could get. One young man knelt, miming anguished longing and holding out his hands in mock entreaty, while another took off his gold chain and held it up, offering to give it to her if only she would come ashore and let him put it round her neck for himself.

Exhilarated, she began to tantalize them, jumping herself up and down in the water and opening her arms in invitation.

"Who's going to join me?" she cried, laughing up at them. "Isn't there a single one of you man enough to come in and catch me?"

"It's too deep, Maia," called Shend-Lador. "Come a bit further in, where we can wade!"

He pointed along the curve of the shore. After one quick look to make sure of her direction and the distance, she dived under, swam a dozen strokes and came up to find herself just in her depth and about twenty yards out from the bank.

"You're afraid, aren't you?" she called to Shend-Lador. "You're afraid to come in and catch me!"

For answer he began taking off his clothes, tossing them here and there and then sitting down while two of the girls, shouting with laughter, pulled off his shoes and breeches. Four or five other young men followed his example.

"What's the reward, Maia?" shouted a young gallant with a wreath of scarlet trepsis round his shoulders.

Before she could speak, Elvair-ka-Virrion's voice answered.

"Anyone who catches her can have her—that's the re-ward!"

Already Shend-Lador and three more had leapt into the water and were wading out towards her. One of these, an aider man, tried to clutch Shend-Lador and pull him back, but himself overbalanced and fell his length amid roars of delight from the spectators. Maia, waiting until the last possible moment, swam a few lazy strokes further out. Shend-Lador plunged after her up to his neck, whereupon she turned and slipped shorewards past him, stroking his cheek with her fingers and gliding away as he made a clumsy grab which missed her by a foot.

Now she was swimming back and forth between them as they floundered and clutched this way and that; pretending to offer herself and vanishing under water just when they all felt sure she must be caught; coming up behind Shend-Lador and nibbling his shoulder before he had even realized she was there.

Then, swimming inshore again, she stood up no more than knee-deep, displaying herself in the moonlight, imploring them to make haste, for she felt so lonely and feared she would never be caught at all. At this a big, bearded man, still in the act of undressing, leapt off the bank in his breeches and came splashing towards her. Maia, diving quickly, pulled them round his knees as he lunged forward, groping. Shouts of laughter and derision rose from the bank as her prank revealed that he had plainly been very eager to catch her indeed.

Although their admiration and her own sense of supremacy were delightful, nevertheless she could not help beginning, now, to feel a trifle weary of the game. She had hoped that there might have been one swimmer among them at least. As it was, the whole lot of them together couldn't have caught her if they'd tried all night, and her common sense told her that however desirable she might be, they would soon get tired of being made to look fools. Yet how best to bring it to an end? She had not foreseen that Elvair-ka-Virrion, in his high spirits, would take it upon himself to offer her as a prize. All the same, she thought, she'd have had no real objection. They were all rich and high-born, else they wouldn't be here.

The story would have got around and likely increased her popularity; and besides, there'd almost certainly have been a generous lygol into the bargain. She could simply have picked out a man she fancied, let herself be caught in some amusing way and then done what was expected of her. But what put all this out of the question was the High Counselor. Ah, and it must be about time she was getting back to him an' all. Perhaps he was already asking where she'd got to?

If he were to miss her and then learn that she'd been— She thought of Meris. Oh, Cran, there was no time to be lost; no, not a minute! She'd better just swim straight back along the lake—they'd never let her go else—never mind her clothes—she could always ask a slave to go and fetch them back from Elvair-ka-Virrion.

Suddenly, cutting through the hubbub, there came a different kind of cry—quick and desperate, a yell of fear cut short in a choking gasp. Shend-Lador, in his eagerness to reach her, had missed his footing and was struggling in deep water. As she looked, his head went under, reappeared for a moment and vanished.

Most of those on the bank were still running about laughing. Only a few had seen what had happened, and these were shouting helplessly and pointing to where Shend-Lador had disappeared.

Maia, reaching the place in six or seven strokes and diving instantly, came upon him a few feet below the surface. He was still struggling, but feebly. As she seized him he grabbed her in panic and she bit his hand as hard as she could. He let go and she kicked upward, got his head above water, turned on her back and dragged him some five or six yards towards the bank. Splashing and jerking, he clutched her again and almost pulled her under; this time she could scarcely break his hold, and, having done so with difficulty, was forced to let him go while she recovered herself. They were both in their depth now, but he could not stand unaided. She put one arm round him, trying to reassure him as he leant upon her, vomiting water over her shoulder.

"All right, Maia, leave him now. You've done enough!"

It was Elvair-ka-Virrion, together with some other young man whom she did not know. Together they took Shend-Lador between them and began wading back towards the bank. Maia, swimming, reached it before them, put her hands on the stone coping, vaulted out and turned, sitting with her legs in the water.

She felt exhausted, and now noticed for the first time a deep scratch along her arm. It was bleeding and it hurt. No one was paying any attention to her. They were all gathered round Shend-Lador as Elvair-ka-Virrion heaved him up onto the grass.

"What's your name, child?"

She looked up. Standing over her was the Sacred Queen, gazing down with the same intent, unsmiling expression that had startled her in diving from the zoan tree.

Maia, having no idea what it was correct for her to do, and all-too-conscious of her wet, bleeding, dishevelled nakedness, scrambled up and knelt at the queen's feet.

"I said, what's your name?"

"Maia, säiyett. Maia of Serrelind."

"Stand up."

Maia did as she was told. The queen was only slightly taller than herself. She was wearing a white cloak over a pale-green robe gathered at the waist with an enamelled belt, in which was sheathed a pair of silver knives. A little way behind her stood a dark, middle-aged woman in a plain but very fine dress of gray silk who must, Maia realized, be in attendance.

"What are you doing in Bekla, Maia? Have you come up for the festival?"

"No, säiyett. I'm in the household of the High Counselor."

"In the household of the High Counselor. Are you? Do you know who I am?"

"Yes, säiyett."

"You call me 'esta-säiyett.' You're a slave, you mean? Abed-slave?"

Maia nodded.

"How old are you?"

"Sixteen, esta-säiyett."

The queen unexpectedly stretched out one hand, rubbed her fingers along Maia's bleeding arm and licked them.

"Then why aren't you with the High Counselor now?"

"I ought to be, esta-säiyett. I was just going to—"

She stopped, confused, for the queen, without the slightest alteration of manner, had begun to stroke and pinch her wet, naked buttocks.

"Plump, aren't you? You eat well, I suppose?"

Before Maia could answer, a sudden, bellowing cry— unmistakably the cry of a man in mortal agony—carried across the entire length of the gardens, instantly silencing every vestige of talk and murmur between. Hard upon it came the screaming of a girl and terrified calls for help. The voice came from among the trees more than four hundred yards away, but Maia would have known it at any distance, for it was Occula's.

Sencho, gulping the last of a bowl of thrilsa mixed with mulled wine and honey, lay back in the cushions and signed to the black girl to rub his belly. He was enjoying a happy sense of full satisfaction. The petty deception attempted by the Urtan dowager, who had returned in alarm and self-abasement, had been exposed, and her mortification had been most enjoyable. Although he knew that several other provincial dignitaries were hoping to speak to him, he did not intend to talk to anyone else tonight. Replete with the excellent and copious dinner, he now felt disposed towards pleasures less mentally strenuous than those of withholding sought favors or playing off one petitioner against another. Besides, his cunning mind knew very well when it had exerted itself sufficiently for the time being. Though by no means incapable, he nevertheless knew that he would now do better to desist from further business.

He felt inclined for the Tonildan girl, but she had not as yet returned from her errand to fetch the dowager. Still, there was no immediate hurry. He would rest for a time and allow his dinner to settle, for the girl, being young and enthusiastic, often tended to be somewhat over-energetic as well. Half-dozing, he began to indulge one of his favorite fantasies—that of devouring the world and everything in it. In his imagination he gorged like an ogre on great flocks of cattle, acres of crops and teeming cities; gulped down pools, lakes and rivers; stuffed himself with basketsful of fat babies and barrow-loads of succulent, chubby little boys and girls. Then, when nothing remained of his feast, he would sleep it off while the gods, at his command, created a fresh world, ready to be consumed when he awoke.

Soon his meditation turned to imaginings of delicious cruelty. He thought, one by one, of the personal enemies whose ruin he had contrived, and of all those by whose deaths he had profited. He had watched them die, some of them, and been present, too, when they were condemned. Some had begged for mercy, offered all their wealth in exchange for their lives—-wealth which the Leopards had acquired anyway, through the forfeiture of their estates. Half of Enka-Mordet's estate would come to him shortly. Ah, but the singular, subtle pleasure of enslaving his daughter—he had had to take special, discreet steps to make sure of that! It had been expensive, of course—the secret instruction and bribery of the soldiers—but it had been worth it.

The infliction of humiliation and anguish on a well-bred girl was a pleasure for which, unfortunately, opportunity all too seldom arose. The sort of women who fell into his power rarely had enough pride or social standing to make their humiliation really amusing. Indeed, many of the coarser kind of young women often seemed positively to enjoy being ill-treated by a man as exalted as himself. It had certainly been pleasant to debase and nauseate that expensive shearna who had come to his house with Kembri's son a few weeks ago. She had thought herself become too exalted for such pastimes: she had found out that she was wrong. Nevertheless, where popular, well-connected shearnas were concerned, one had to be careful about giving way to impulses of that kind. Yet where was the pleasure in degrading slave-girls who had no dignity of which to be deprived?

As the sensations of satiety in his distended belly began to subside under the skillful ministrations of the black girl, his lust became more urgent and he looked about in growing annoyance for the Tonildan, who should certainly have come back by now. She was beginning to fancy herself too much, was that child.

She probably even supposed that he entertained some sort of feeling for her. He knew very well that she thought herself his favorite. Her disillusionment in this respect might, perhaps, be coupled in some way with tormenting Milvushina. Perhaps Terebinthia would be able to devise something really original.

Meanwhile his immediate craving was simpler.

The black girl was bending over him, whispering solicitously and sliding her warm, pink tongue between his lips. She was good at her work. He had grown to trust her; she had shown herself one of his best purchases ever. During his recent indisposition she had proved better than Terebinthia, seeming to know exactly what he needed and how to help him to recover his spirits. The true reason for this, he knew, was the existence of some strange affinity between them. She possessed, he had come to realize, a ruthlessness, a well-masked savagery in certain ways akin to his own. At his heart lay a murderous hatred of the rich world that had spurned a starving ragamuffin from its doors—until that ragamuffin had learned to pander to its filthy desires. He longed for that world's destruction. So did she. At least, she longed for some sort of destruction. He was no fool; he could perceive that. She was like him to the extent that hatred was what made her live; though hatred of precisely what he had not as yet been able to discern, for she was inscrutable. Now that he came to think of it, she might make a useful secret agent.

Now she was looking into his eyes, murmuring very close and low in a language unknown; sibilant and eager, an invitation, a promise of something lewdly delectable. In response to this cryptic incitement he began to have second thoughts. To have her to gratify him now would be more enjoyable, all things considered, than the Tonildan. How pleasant his life was! His great wealth, his enemies destroyed, every luxury and indulgence at his command! Her strange, unknown words sounded in his ears like an affirmation of security, an invincible charm. Yes, she understood him very well, this fellow-pirate. He was in haste for her.

Even the High Counselor could not gratify his lust openly, in the gardens of the Barb and the presence of provincial barons and their wives. Impatient, he raised himself in the cushions and looked about for the soldiers.

"The boat, my lord," whispered the black girl. "There's a boat, do you see? Just down there, look. We'll go a little way off, in the boat. That'll be the easiest Way."

Two of the attendant soldiers came forward to help him to his feet, but he waved them away, content to clutch her arm. Ah, but he hardly needed help! He felt young again, on his way to the iron-hills of Gelt, on his way to make money once more in Kabin of the Waters: a sharp fellow, one who knew very well how to sail with the stream; one who had grown fat on the blood of his enemies. Only a few steps, yes, just a few gasping steps to the waterside. Slaves had filled the narrow flat-bottomed boat with cushions and into these he sank, while the black girl, seated at his feet, loosed the cord, took up a paddle and pushed gently away from the bank.

"We needn't go far, my lord," she said, smiling down at him. "Just up among those trees. No one'll see us there."

Now the boat was gliding smoothly, only a few feet from the bank, slipping quietly up the margin of the lake, past the scullions dousing their fires and the cooks packing up their utensils after the evening's work. There was a pleasant smell of smoldering logs. The black girl had slipped out of her clothes and now sat naked on the thwart, her body gleaming in the moonlight as she bent, dipped her paddle and rose again, this side and that, gently guiding the boat towards the zoan grove bordering the far end of the gardens. The moon had dropped behind the trees and the inshore water was lying in deep shadow. Into this warm seclusion the boat slid with scarcely a ripple—merely a light chuckling under the bow and then a gentle scraping as it touched the bank and came to a stop. Laying down her paddle, the black girl knelt and secured the cords fore and aft to two projecting roots.

Now she was stretched beside him, fondling him, her fingers deft and busy under his thin robe. In growing excitement he began caressing her thighs, clutching her, fondling her breasts.

"You're the god Cran, my lord," she whispered, "and I'm your Sacred Queen."

Laughing, she mounted astride him, sinking down upon him, panting. Her rapid plungings began to shake and agitate the boat, sending a succession of ripples out across the water.

"Ah, now, my lord!" she cried. "Now! Now!" Yet thereupon, unexpectedly, she rolled quickly over and away from him, slipping out of his embrace.

As she did so, two figures rose silently out of the undergrowth of the zoan thicket. The taller, holding a wooden stake sharpened to a point at one end, plunged it downward into the huge belly, leant on it and then, jabbing, levered it back and forth. His companion, a woman carrying a knife, crouched down and drove it again and again into the folds of fat at the High Counselor's throat. Once only he cried out—a roaring bellow which died away as the blood filled his mouth and spurted over his neck and shoulders.

The black girl, snatching the knife, drove it twice into her own thigh and once into her arm. Then, while the attackers made off, one dragging the other by the wrist, she began to scream. As her blood ran down, mingling with her master's, he clutched in agony at the stake jutting from his paunch, shuddered and lay still.

When the first of the soldiers and kitchen-slaves came bursting through the undergrowth from the gardens, they found only the High Counselor's concubine beside the body, sobbing hysterically, calling on her gods and beating blindly, with bloody hands, at assailants who were nowhere to be seen.