61: THE QUEEN'S PRICE

It was from this hour that Maia began more and more frequently to imagine Zen-Kurel present at her side. Crossing the lawn to her jekzha and smiling, with a pretense of unconcern, to her soldiers as they scrambled up from the shade under the wall, she found herself making believe, childlike, that he and she were together, heads close as they talked, his arm round her waist. Brave, warm, a shade rash, a shade immature, infinitely likable, himself somewhat, perhaps, in need of a loyal friend with a cool head, Zenka was admonishing her, in his eager, confident voice, not to be afraid of the Sacred Queen or her spiteful capers (yes, that was his phrase, "spiteful capers"), because he would protect her and see that she came to no harm. "And you don't mind that I'm doing this for Tharrin?" she asked him, as he sat with her in the jekzha, one hand gently caressing her scarred thigh. "Of course not! I certainly wouldn't think much of you if you didn't." "And what's to become of him when we've set him free?" "Why, he's to go home and keep out of trouble, what else? Once we're married—" "Oh, Zenka, we're to be married?" "Yes, of course. What's the point of waiting any longer?" "Oh, Zenka—" "And I'm proud of you, Maia. I'm really proud that you weren't afraid of the Sacred Queen."

Walking by the Barb—for she could find no appetite for the meal poor Ogma had prepared—a fresh thought occurred to her, affording a curious, paradoxical comfort. She realized, now, that the reason why she had been excited by the punishment of Meris was that, unconsciously, she had been jealous of her—oh, Lespa! only to think of it now!—as Sencho's favorite. Yes, envious of that, and also of her experience, competence and brassy sophistication. Meris was tough. Of her own accord she had chosen to lead a life of crime and violence—she'd derived satisfaction and amusement from using her looks to lure men to disaster. If anyone could stand a good smacking, it was Meris. And had she not had her revenge on Sencho— literally pressed down and running over, one might say? Besides, she herself—Maia—had changed much since Suba: she would not feel now as she had then. The Maia who had attended Sencho at the Rains banquet had been a mere child. Yet that chlid, too, would have been horrified by the prisoners in the Sheldad and by coming upon poor Qua as she had that morning. "You're not even cruel, are you?" Form's had said to her. No, she wasn't.

There was, clearly, very little that did not reach the ears of Fornis. Was it not highly probable that she might have heard something from Sencho—or even, perhaps, from Terebinthia—about her, Maia's reaction to Meris's whipping which had misled her into thinking that Maia was just the girl to suit her?

Once' Sencho was dead she had certainly wasted little or no time. Yet it had taken her even less time to realize that she had been mistaken. "You're naturally pure; one day it'll catch up with you—if you live that long." "I'll live, Zenka," she said aloud. "Oh, I'll live! And I'll find you again, believe me." For nowhere in all her imaginings was there a particle of doubt that he had no more forgotten her than she him.

It was time to return to Fornis's house. She walked back along the edge of the reed-beds, beyond which a grebe, black-crested and ochre-necked, was swimming with its chicks on its back. One day I'll swim the Zhairgen to Katria, she thought, and Zenka'll be waiting for me on the bank.

The Sacred Queen, she was informed, was down at the archery butts behind the house; and thither Ashaktis conducted her. She said little or nothing on the way and Maia, for her part, offered no more than the few words necessary to ensure that Ashaktis could not say that she had behaved discourteously.

The mown field, flanked on one side with pinnate-leaved, white-umbelled brygon trees, stretched away to the Peacock Wall, under which stood the targets—life-sized effigies of Katrian soldiers, their arms stiff as scare-crows' in the sunshine.

Fornis, now dressed, as though for hunting, in a green jerkin and leather breeches, paused briefly as she saw Maia approaching and then, having spent a few moments in adjusting the leather guard on her left wrist and forearm, fitted an arrow, drew and loosed at a target. The arrow hit its mark precisely. Maia stood waiting while the queen shot six more with equal precision. Then, leaning on her bow, she unstrung it and laid it down beside the remaining arrows on the trestle table beside her.

"You've come to speak to me?"

"No, esta-säiyett, for I've nothing more to say," replied the invisible Zenka through Maia's lips. "I've simply come as you asked me, to hear your decision."

"About your brother, is it?"

"My stepfather, esta-säiyett."

"Ah, yes. I couldn't remember, I'm afraid. Well, you must know this man, I suppose. What do you think he's worth?"

At this Maia's heart leapt. Apparently the queen was at least ready to sell Tharrin on some kind of terms.

"I can't say, esta-säiyett: I've no experience, I'm afraid."

"The man's life's dedicated to Cran," said the queen, as though deliberating. "But of course we must try to oblige you, Maia, if possible."

"Thank you very much, esta-säiyett: I'm most grateful, and so will he be."

"I've gone so far as to discuss the matter with the chief priest" (I wonder whether she really has? thought Maia) "and we feel that, remembering your valuable services to the city, the god would probably be content to forgo this sacrifice in return for—shall we say?—ten thousand meld."

She turned aside and began examining the fletching of one of the arrows.

So the game had entered another stage; and the silly mouse had afforded sport by showing, for a moment, that it had really supposed it was going to escape. Little or no experience as Maia had, she knew enough to be certain that Tharrin—an unskilled man in poor condition and over forty years old—was not worth a fifth of the sum the queen had named. She herself, as an outstandingly beautiful and almost untouched girl of fifteen, had been sold for fifteen thousand. Ogma, if she had not been given to the Serrelinda as a gift, might have been expected to fetch about eight hundred.

Yet the queen's game was far more ingenious than a mere promise followed by deprivation: that would have lacked subtlety. She had weighed to a nicety Maia's innate warmth of heart and genuine determination to save Tharrin if she could. With the special circumstance that Tharrin was temple property, a kind of deodand, it was possible publicly to justify the enormous sum demanded. But cleverer still, it would be just within Maia's power to raise it, provided she was ready to sacrifice most of what She possessed—her jewels, her silver and so on. However, there was an alternative way to get the money, as Occula would undoubtedly have reminded her; and this, she thought, she would certainly pursue.

"Very well, esta-säiyett. I'll buy him from the temple for that sum."

"There's only one condition," said the queen, smiling, "which is unavoidable, I'm afraid, remembering that the executions are due to take place tomorrow morning. I shall need to receive the whole sum from you in coin by this time tomorrow at the latest."

Clearly, it had occurred to the queen no less readily than to Maia herself that, given time, and as the most adulated and desired woman in the city, she could have procured the money by the same means as Nennaunir would have procured it; though this would have been a somewhat lengthy undertaking. To advance her such a sum at twenty-four hours' notice, however, would be beyond the means of any friends she possessed; beyond the means, indeed, of virtually anyone in the upper city.

A little distance away, a cat had appeared on top of the wall bordering one side of the field. Fornis, picking up her bow again, strung it and then, almost without aiming as it seemed, shot an arrow which passed between the top of the wall and the cat's belly. As the cat leaped out of sight she tossed the bow to Ashaktis, clicking her tongue with annoyance.

"That's enough for today, Shakti," she said. "My wrist's getting tired. Tell Occula to get the bath ready and call the little boys."

With this she and Ashaktis turned away, leaving Maia alone in the field.

Having returned along the quiet, sunny avenues flanked by flowering trees, stone walls and trim gardens, Maia, as she entered her house, was met by Ogma with the news that Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion was waiting to see her.

As she came into the sunny parlor overlooking the Barb he sprang up from the window-seat and took both her hands in his own so eagerly that he almost seemed about to swing her off her feet.

"Maia! I was determined to wait until you came back! What a charming house this is they've given you! I do hope you're happy here, and getting well over your injuries— your honorable wounds, I ought to say. I only wish I had a few like yours to boast about—you're ahead of me there, I'm afraid—for the time being, anyway. But you're looking marvelous! More beautiful than ever."

He had changed out of his military gear and was now dressed with all his usual flamboyance, plumed and blazoned like a kynat. She showed him over the house and the little garden, strolled with him down to the shore and back and then poured him wine as he sat once more by the window. She wondered what his reason might be for coming to see her. A few months ago she would have been in no doubt; but that, of course, was before Milvushina had joined his household. Milvushina—another enemy of the Sacred Queen: what subtle trap might be in preparation for her? Yet she, at least, had powerful protectors. The thought of her own insecurity was beginning to frighten her.

"Don't you think so, Maia?" asked Elvair-ka-Virrion.

She recollected herself with a blush. "I'm sorry, my lord: please forgive me. I'm afraid I'd just let my mind wander for a moment, kind of. What were you saying?"

He paused, looking at her over his wine-cup with an air of the most sincere concern and commiseration, so that she found herself for a moment remembering old Nasada. At length he said, "Maia, I don't know how you think of me, but I've always felt for you very sincerely, and not just since you became the Serrelinda, either. I'd like to think you feel I'm your friend. Anyway, I can tell when you're not yourself. You're still worrying, aren't you, about your stepfather—that business you came to talk about in the palace this morning? What's happened? You don't want to drop it, but you're frightened of the queen; is that it?"

She looked up at him with brimming eyes.

"I'm not afraid of the queen. I'm not!"

"Don't be silly. Everyone is. Durakkon is, even my father—everyone."

Slowly, and with hesitation—for she felt keenly not only her powerlessness to help Tharrin except at the cost of almost all she had gained, but also that the queen had succeeded only too well in making a fool and a dupe of her—she began to tell him what had happened since she had left the Lord General. When she spoke of how she had returned to the queen at noon Elvair-ka-Virrion whistled.

"You mean you went back there a second time and held her to her word?"

"Well, yes: s'pose you could sort of put it like that."

"You realize there's probably not a man in my entire regiment who would have dared to do that? She might have put an arrow through you or just had you thrown down a well: oh, yes, she might, Maia, believe me."

"Reckon she must 'a been savin' up, then, for something a bit more entertaining, like," said Maia bitterly.

She finished her story, this time telling frankly about her seduction by Tharrin. "Poor Tharrin's nothing to me any more and never will be, but I can't just stand by and do nothing. Nor I can't see as it'd do the Leopards any harm to let him go. He's had that much of a fright, he'd never do nothing like that n'more; you can count on it." She paused. Then, "Do you know anyone as'd buy this house today for ten thousand meld down?"

"You really are that serious?"

"Yes, I am."

He paused, reflecting. At length he said, "You know I'm leaving tomorrow to lead the campaign in Chalcon? I'm giving the usual part)?—a barrarz —tonight. All my officers will be there, of course—including Shend-Lador— and a lot of other people you know; Sarget for one; oh, and Randronoth, the governor of Lapan—you know him, don't you?"

"I ought to: I had to bed with him once at Sencho's."

"Oh, he'd have liked that, Randronoth would. Well, Milvushina will be there, of course, and Otavis and Nennaunir. Your friend Fordil's bringing his drums and hinnaris along, and everyone's hoping you'll dance. That was what I came for—to ask you particularly. But in the light of what you've been telling me, I've just had another idea that may appeal to you. I think it'll work, provided we can get everyone in the right mood. I'm ready to do everything I can to help you in this business, Maia, I promise you."

She gazed back at him, half-smiling in response to his smile, uncertain, puzzled but intrigued.

"Let's just have another stroll down that pretty garden of yours," said Elvair-ka-Virrion, draining off his goblet and picking up his plumed hat from the table, "and I'll tell you what it is I've got in mind. Cheer up: I think we may beat Fornis yet."