Maia (71 page)

She drank it down. It was bitter and sabulous, leaving grains on her tongue.

"Did you like being at the High Counselor's?" he asked.

Maia realized that if Bayub-Otal or Lenkrit had asked this question, she would unthinkingly have replied "I was a slave-girl." But for some reason that was not good enough for this man. He deserved a better answer-chiefly because he had not asked the question contemptuously, as they would have done. He knew very well, she thought, that there were some things about the High Counselor's which she
had
enjoyed; and he wasn't blaming her for it, either.

"I didn't like being shut up indoors so much." He waited. "Oh, but the clothes, U-Nasada, and the food! A girl like me, see, couldn't ever have expected to live like that. The upper city-you've no idea-oh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-"

He was not in the least offended. "And did you enjoy giving him pleasure?"

"Well, I did after Occula'd taught me the right way to look at it. It was work, see? I didn't get much real, bodily pleasure myself-well, you couldn't, could you?-but I did enjoy feeling he was rich and powerful and could have anything he liked, and that what he liked was me. He was. a brute, really-a filthy beast, everyone knew that. If I hadn't suited him, he'd just have got rid of me. But he didn't; that's the truth of it, U-Nasada. I mean, that was what I liked."

"Did you always live by Lake Serrelind-before Bekla, I mean?"

"Yes, all my life."

"You're quite sure?"

She frowned, puzzled. "Yes, of course. Why?" Then she laughed. "Dare say that's why I took to Bekla, d'you reckon? Country girl never been anywhere before?"

"And your father-he died when you were still quite a little girl?"

"No, I was nine when he died: I remember him well. I liked Dad: he was always good to me. It was only after he died, really, that Mother got so bad-tempered and sour."

"I suppose there's never been any doubt that he
was
your father? Has anyone ever told you anything else?"

If she had not taken such a liking to him-and if she hadn't been beginning to feel so drowsy-she would have resented this.

"Never." She giggled. " 'Course, I wasn't just exactly there at the time, was I?"

He laughed too; then shrugged, evidently dismissing the subject. "Feeling sleepy?"

"M'm, very. Thank you, U-Nasada. I don't feel half so bad about everything now.
You'll
see I don't get ill, won't you?"

"Well, that's what I promised Anda-Nokomis. If only you do what I tell you, there's no reason at all why a healthy girl like you should get ill here. Suba's not half as bad as it's painted, you know, to people who understand it. Shall I tell Luma to bring her bed in? You won't wake, but you may as well have her here. Looking after you's what she's been told to do."

"Yes, ask her." But before the Suban girl had dragged her mattress and blankets up the ladder, Maia was sleeping so soundly that she did not stir even when Luma stumbled over her sandals in the dark.

It was an hour after noon, still and humid among the overhanging trees and beds of reeds. There was not the least breeze. The only sound near at hand was the hollow
slop-slop
under the rectangular, flat-bottomed boat as it made its way over tangles of weed, muddy shallows and deeper places. One could more or less tell the depth of the water, thought Maia, by the sound it made under the planking. It was like one of Fordil's zhuas, rim and center-above deep water the boat made a more cavernous sound. One might make a dance out of it. She and Fordil might devise a dance about the swamps and their miles of shady, watery waste. What would the story be? What stories did these people tell among themselves? Anyway, when would she ever see Fordil again?

She was sweating all over, and although she was trying to cool her face with a cloth dipped in the water, the water

itself was lukewarm. She felt dirty and untidy. What on earth would they say in Bekla to see her now, the High Counselor's fifteen-thousand-meld bed-girl, with black finger-nails, her golden hair full of dust of ashes, a torn smock and hairy armpits? O Cran! she thought, and what are they going to think when we arrive at this Melvda place and maybe that king's going to be there an' all? Likely they'll put me on scrubbing floors-that's if there are any to scrub.

They had left the village in the boat-a
kilyett,
as they called it-a little before noon-U-Nasada, Tescon, herself and Luma. All three of the others appeared equally at home when it came to paddling and steering what seemed to her a heavy, clumsy craft, not even quite regular in shape. Tescon had explained to her that Subans, as marsh-dwellers, used two or three different kinds of boat, according to the particular need. For fishing and for short trips-which might be no more than a couple of hundred yards-they used either rafts or else what they called
dords
- light, oval coracles with a kind of well or hollow keel for carrying gear. For longer journeys, however-especially such as might involve moving through tracts of swamp between villages-the proper craft was the flat-bottomed kilyett, fourteen or fifteen feet long, which drew no more than a few inches and in which one could sleep at a pinch. Unless it was actually stuck on mud, a kilyett could be forced through almost anything in the way of reeds or undergrowth, while if everyone got out it could even be dragged for short distances overland.

The village, she had discovered when they came to leave it, lay on a kind of spit or neck of firm ground between the Valderra to the east and a wide expanse of marsh on the west. It was through this marsh that their journey had at first lain; though how anyone could tell the way was past her comprehension. In and out of the mournful swamps they had wandered, under and between trees festooned with pendent moss and shaggy creepers; over shallow mud beds where the boat had skirred, slowed and grated, until she felt sure they were going to stick fast: across pools and small lakes, heading straight for what looked like impenetrable banks of reeds on the further side, through which, at the last moment, they pushed and crushed their way into the next pool; down corridors of water flanked by boggy thickets, out of which, at their approach, flew great flocks of long-billed waders. Once or twice Maia ventured

questions or offered help, but although the Subans always answered her courteously, she soon grasped that she was more hindrance than use and might as well accept that she was about as valuable as a tailor in a smithy.

Together with her anxiety about the future, she was now beginning to feel, more acutely than at any time since leaving Bekla, two further deprivations. One was of the luxury and comfort of the High Counselor's household, which had softened her and to which, she now realized, she had become more accustomed than she had supposed. During the first two or three days she had enjoyed standing up to the journey, never envisaging that anything could go wrong with Kembri's plan. Now, however, it was no longer a matter of bearing hardship with the prospect of reward. Gone forever were the delicious meals, the soft bed, the clothes and jewels, the ready availability of Ogma to do whatever was wanted, the admiration of the Leopards and her own future as a dancer. Oh, and above all, she had lost Occula! "Kantza-Merada blast this damned, dirty sink of web-footed bastards!" she whispered under her breath.

Her other need was simpler and deeper. She wanted a man. Ever since Tharrin, she had hardly been without one for more than a few days. She remembered how once she had been cross with Occula for taking her up short when she had talked about randy goats in the upper city who couldn't go without. "Banzi, you think men are randy and you're not? Doan' you know it goes far deeper with girls? Men-they talk and boast about it and we doan': and you take all that at face value. But men have a sort of silly notion there's somethin' clever about doin' without. Food, drink, sleep, women-oh, doan' they just love to boast that they're brave, brave soldiers who can go without if they're put to it? So can we. But when did you ever hear a girl
boastin'
about goin' without? Girls who have to go without bastin' just feel sorry, not proud. One day you'll find out that I'm right."

She'd found out now, she thought. On and off for hours she'd been tormented, not by any longing for this man or that-not for the devouring potency of Kembri, the elegant style of Elvair-ka-Virrion, the lewdness of Sencho-but simply for the thing itself. Her mind kept dwelling on the actual physical sensations, like that of a near-starving person obsessed with food; and the recollection of her suf-

ferings-the river crossing, her wounded shin, the leeches- only seemed to sharpen it, as Sencho had once told her that girls were often sharpened by a good whipping. Oh, I'd take just about any man! she thought; that I would!

Lying prone on the raised, flat stern and trying to turn her mind to something else, she began considering the strangeness of coming, in this wilderness, upon so unexpected a person as Nasada. He puzzled her. It was nothing to do with his having no sexual interest in her. After all, neither had Zuno; nor had Sarget on the night of the senguela, whatever might have been his private feelings. Maia had no general objection to men not showing desire for her. Her dislike of Bayub-Otal stemmed not from this, but from his actual rejection of her advances-that and the contemptuous way in which he had spoken of what he regarded as her degradation in the High Counselor's household. Nasada, on the other hand, she not only liked-and wanted him to like her-but also intuitively trusted as she had never trusted anyone else. This was not simply a matter of his being a doctor and having taken the trouble to come to see her last night. No, it was an attraction the nature of which she could not really explain to herself. He was wise, yet he didn't talk down to her. He made her feel secure. She wanted to get to know him better, to talk to him, to tell him more about herself, ask him all manner of questions and hear what he had to say in reply; to be-well, to be his friend. He made her feel she was valuable as a person, not just as an expensive and beautiful concubine. She didn't desire him-oh, no, the very idea was out of the question; that would spoil it all; nor did she entertain any hope that he would help her to escape from Suba. Yet he had put new heart into her, and a feeling that she could face the future. If he had not been with her now-if there had been no one but Luma and Tescon-she was not sure but what she mightn't have been driven to some desperate turn.

She came out of these reflections as Tescon spoke.

"Well, Shakkarn be thanked, that's the worst of it, U-Nasada. Here's Dark Entry at last."

For some time they had been paddling cautiously through a watery grove of huge trees stretching out invasive roots under the shallow water, many of which extended for yards and were like submerged rocks on which a boat could ground or even hole itself. As Tescon spoke he made two

quick strokes on each side and the kilyett, immediately gaining speed and thrusting its bow into a kind of deep cavern of overhanging branches, came out beyond into slow-moving, open water-the first flowing water Maia had seen since they started. The breadth across to the opposite side-another line of trees and reeds-was about thirty yards. Looking one way and the other as Tescon, back-paddling, turned the boat through a right-angle and headed it into the current, she saw the vista of a long channel, for all the world like a track through a forest, extending away in each direction.

Tescon glanced at her. "This is the Nordesh. Runs clear all the way to Melvda."

She smiled and nodded. He settled back silently, letting the boat drift with the current and using his paddle merely to keep it on course. Luma, further forward, fell once again into the same monotonous drone which Maia had heard the day before. Proper high-spirited bunch, aren't they? she thought. Wonder where we're going to stop for the night? As she looked up into the green gloom, they approached and passed beneath a great, black turtle, motionless on a branch overhanging the stream. She fell to wondering how they mated and whether they enjoyed it.

All that afternoon, at the speed of a man strolling, they traveled on down the Nordesh. What with the humidity, the unvarying sameness of the stream and the tunnel of trees above, the journey became almost like a trance. Su-bans, Maia felt, seemed no more conscious of tedium than the water-fowl among which they lived; nor, for the moment, was she disposed to blame them. To her, one part of Suba seemed as monotonous as another and she was in no particular haste to arrive at any destination- Luma, for her part, showed less interest than an animal in what lay around them, sitting with bowed head for half an hour at a stretch, and merely nodding, or murmuring "Shagreh," when anyone spoke to her. Maia wondered why she couldn't go to sleep and be done with it.

The light-such as it was-was at last beginning to fade when, as they drifted round the curve of a long, regular bend, they saw ahead of them another kilyett, smaller than their own, moored against the right bank. At first it seemed to be empty, but on coming closer they saw two youths stretched out in the bottom, either asleep or dozing, Tes-

con hailed them and they both sat up quickly, one calling out "U-Nasada?"

Nasada answered, whereupon they untied their boat and took up their paddles.

"We're from Lukrait," said one, palm to forehead, as Tescon, who could steer the heavy
kilyett
to an inch, slid alongside. "Our elder sent us to wait here and guide you in when you came."

"That's still U-Makron, I hope?" asked Nasada and, as the lad nodded, "It must be-oh, two years, I suppose, since I was last at Lukrait."

"And two months and three days," replied the lad, smiling. "You don't remember me, then, U-Nasada?"

The old man frowned, thrust forward his head and stared piercingly at him, making a comical act of it. Then he smiled and put a hand on the lad's shoulder.

"Yes, I do-you're Bread or Crumb or something, aren't you?"

"Kram." He looked delighted.

"That's it; Kram. I scratched your arm for you, didn't I? But I had to leave before I knew what came of it. Did it work?"

"Yes, it did. For about three days after you'd gone I felt terrible. Everyone said you'd poisoned me-"

"I had."

"My mother was ready to kill you. Then I got well and I've never had a day's fever since."

Nasada nodded. "I thought it would probably suit you. It doesn't suit everybody."

"You mean I'll never have the fever again?"

"Well, that I can't promise," said Nasada. "But if I scratch you again in about another three years, you ought to be safe for a good long time."

Following Kram's boat in the failing light, they now began another bumping, winding course through the swampland.

"Have you seen Anda-Nokomis, then?" asked Tescon. "Was it he who told you we were coming?"

"He and U-Lenkrit arrived late last night," replied Kram. "Too late to try to get through here, I'd have thought, but they managed it. U-Makron saw them, but they left again soon after dawn this morning." After a pause while they negotiated a wide, reedy mud-bank, he added,
"We're

coming down to Melvda with you tomorrow; and one or two more as well."

"Aren't you too young?" asked Nasada.

"No one's too young to strike a blow for Suba, U-Na-sada," said the second youth. "Besides, Anda-Nokomis told U-Makron that everyone-every single man-who goes will get his reward." He laughed. "So we're not going to miss ours!"

Emerging at length from among the trees, they saw ahead of them the outskirts of a village which to Maia looked much like the one they had left that morning. By the waterside were moored boats, nets spread to, dry, a rickety-looking watch-tower and two fish-breeding ponds closed off by means of wicker hatches. A path led up through trees to the village itself, about two hundred yards away on slightly higher ground.

Nasada told Kram to take the girls straight to their sleeping-quarters while he went to pay his respects to Makron. The lad led them up the path to the village, which Maia could now see was not only larger than the other but also somewhat more prosperous-looking-though that wasn't saying much, she thought. Still, at least there seemed to be fewer sores and rags and more cheerful children. One little girl, aged about nine, ran up to them of her own accord and asked smilingly, "Who are you?" Maia smiled back, but thought it best to leave Luma to answer her in their own dialect.

Their hut, too, was a pleasant change for the better. It was quite spacious, and had been fumigated by burning some sort of herb which had left a clean, sharp smell. The ladder was new and firm, and the floor had been covered with fresh rushes. As they entered, an elderly woman sitting by the window stood up, put a quick question to Kram and, having learned that they were whom she had thought, came forward to greet them. She seemed to have put on her best clothes for the occasion, being dressed not in the usual sheath-like smock, but in a faded, blue, woolen dress a little too large, which could only have come from somewhere beyond Suba. Her gracious, unhurried manner suggested that she was-or felt herself to be-a lady of some standing. Maia hoped she would not converse for long, since all she herself wanted was to wash, eat and sleep.