Maia
She murmured, opened her eyes and sat up. Randronoth was awake, seated in the chair and looking at her. She jumped out of bed, ran over and kissed him on both cheeks.
"I'm sorry I was angry," she said. "I was that tired and frightened and it was such a shock. I'll do my best to help you, Randro: only it's enough to scare anyone, you must surely see that."
He nodded, holding her hands and kissing them. "I want your servants to think there's nothing out of the ordinary-- for the moment, anyway. I'm here as your lover--your porter thinks so and your slave-girl too. I've told my soldiers to say nothing to the contrary. The girl--what's her name, Ogma?--do you generally send her to the market?"
She nodded.
"Let her go. It can't do any harm. I've already given her money and told her to say nothing outside about my being here. We'll have breakfast now."
During the morning Maia did all she could to give the impression of having recovered her calm. For a time she worked on a piece of embroidery, then read for an hour and practiced her writing. She was hoping that Nennaunir or Otavis might come to the house, but there were no visitors. The city, when she went up on the roof towards noon, seemed more than usually still and unstirring in the heat: the markets looked almost deserted.
"The caravans aren't coming in," said Randronoth when she remarked on it. "There's nothing arriving now from Ikat, you see, or Herl--or from Dari, for that matter. But I dare say stuff will still be coming from the north, unless trouble's broken out there, too."
She offered an inward prayer for the safety of Nasada, but said no more.
During the early afternoon Randronoth became increasingly restive, making Maia accompany him while he returned several times to the roof to look out to the southward.
"Seekron should have been here by now," he said. "I hope nothing's gone wrong."
"Why, how could it?" asked Maia, hoping with all her heart that it had.
"Well, before I left Lapan I'd found out all I needed to know about the whereabouts of Erketlis; and of the Beklans--the Chalcon force, I mean. But EHeroth--that's another matter entirely."
"I've heard of this Elleroth before," answered Maia. "Who is he? I thought he was with Erketlis?"
"He's the eldest son of the Ban of Sarkid; and as to what he is, he's a very active young fellow spoiling for trouble, that's about it. He's popular in Sarkid, he's a good leader and he's never made any secret of his heldro sympathies. As soon as Erketlis took up arms, Elleroth got together a bunch of volunteers and went off to join him in Chalcon. But after the battle, when Erketlis went south to take Ikat, Elleroth lit out on his own to break up the slave-farm at Orthid in Tonilda. And where he may have got to now I've no idea. That bunch of his can move very fast when they want to, and I wouldn't put it altogether past him to be giving Seekron some trouble."
"But how would he know about Seekron?" asked Maia. "My friend Shend-Lador was here only yesterday and he had no idea what you were up to."
"Well, it's simply that I don't trust Elleroth not to be anywhere, that's all," said Randronoth, and relapsed into a moody silence.
About an hour later Maia, dozing on her bed, was roused by knocking on the outer door. Looking out the window, with Randronoth at her elbow, she was startled to see none other than Brero, dishevelled and covered with sweat and dust, gesticulating and talking earnestly with old Jarvil and Randronoth's two soldiers.
Randronoth drew her back into the room. "Who's that?"
"It's Brero!" she answered, staring. "My soldier as used to look after me. He was one of those as went off with Durakkon three days ago--"
"With Durakkon?"
"Yes; against Fornis. Randro, something bad must have happened!"
Randronoth reflected a moment, staring down at the floor. Then he said, "Let him in," and led the way downstairs.
82: BRERO'S RETURN
Brero, when he came into the parlor, was obviously close to exhaustion. His eyes were bloodshot and his sweat had left long, grimy streaks in the dust clinging to his face. He seemed scarcely able to stand as he saluted them with a dirty, bound-up hand across his chest.
Maia pointed to a chair. "Sit down, Brero. Ogma!" (for the girl, sensing bad news, was peering in at the door) "bring some wine!"
"Water for me, saiyett, if it's all the same to you," said Brero, coughing. "I--I'll pull myself together in a minute. I'm right done up and that's the truth."
When the water was brought he drank almost a pint without stopping, drew breath for a few seconds and then drank again.
"You've hurt your hand," said Maia.
"It's nothing. I'm sorry, saiyett; my feet are that dirty-- your floor."
"Oh, never mind about that. You'd better have a bath, Brero, and we'll find you some fresh clothes."
"Thank you, saiyett: but first of all I think you'd best hear what I've got to say--you and this gentleman--"
"This is Lord Randronoth, governor of Lapan."
"I'm sorry, my lord." He tried to rise to his feet: Randronoth motioned to him to sit down,again. "You'd better hear it at once. The High Baron's dead. Queen Fornis--"
"Durakkon--dead?" cried Randronoth. "Are you sure?"
"I saw it with my own eyes, my lord. I'll tell you the way of it."
"Yes, quickly," said Randronoth.
"I'll be as quick as I can, my lord, for tell you the truth, I believe the Serrelinda may be in danger."
"Go on," said Randronoth. He shut the door.
"As you know, my lord, we left here three days ago. I saw the High Baron more than once during the march. He didn't strike any of us as acting like himself; not like a man in his normal senses, so to speak. Seemed like he was in a kind of daze. Well, once, for instance, when we were crossing some roughish ground on the plain, he tripped and fell; and if you'll believe me, saiyett, he never tried to get up on his own account; just lay there until two of the officers helped him back to his feet. There was some of the lads was saying in so many words that he must 'a been bewitched. And yet at night--both nights--when we'd pitched camp, he come round and spoke to everyone as kind and pleasant as you please. Of course, he was always very well-liked, you know, saiyett, was the High Baron--"
"Get on with it!" said Randronoth. "What happened?"
"Yes, of course; my lord; I'm sorry. Excuse me, I'm that dry." He drank copiously once more and then continued.
"It was yesterday morning, still fairly early--maybe three hours after sunrise--when one of our patrols came back to say that the Palteshis were only two or three miles off. We were marching in four columns, side by side, it being very open country, like, out on the plain, as you'll know, my lord, and it just so happened that I was quite close to Lord Kerith-a-Thrain and the High Baron when the patrol came in, so I could hear what they were saying. 'Within an hour, I'd guess, my lord,' the officer said. "They're in no sort of order--strung out all over the place--but I'd say they might be about twice as many as what we are.'
" 'But what about their quality?" asks Lord Kerith-a-Thrain. 'How did they strike you?'
" 'No sort of quality at all, my lord, most of 'em,' says the patrol captain. 'There's a iew look all right, but half of them's no more soldiers than what they're musicians.'
"So with that Lord Kerith-a-Thrain gives the order to halt and form line, with our two wings sloping back. That's what's generally done for a defensive fight, you see, saiyett, if there's a risk of outflanking--"
"Will you get on and come to the point?" said Randronoth.
"I'm sorry, my lord. So after a little we saw their dust and then they came in sight. Well, you've told me to be quick, so I won't say more than that the patrol captain was right. There certainly were a lot of them, but just louts for the most part: just an armed mob. They was all yelling and shouting and no sort of order to them. They stopped about a quarter of a mile away from us, just as they were, in their different crowds and companies, all over the place. I could see Queen Fornis; there was no mistaking her. She was right in the center, with a crowd o
f Palteshi officers, and she was armed just the same as they were.
"And then, before Lord Kerith-a-Thrain had had time to speak to him, the High Baron--I heard him very plain-- he said 'Keep the men here, Kerith, I'm going out to talk to her about my son. I shan't need to take anyone with me.'
"Well, then, Lord Kerith, he tried to argue, my lord, but I won't waste your time with that. In the end the High Baron walked out between the two armies all by himself, and we saw him go up to the queen, and the two of them was talking and then they disappeared together--back through the enemy's line, I mean.
"Well, we was stood there a goodish time and then at last the High Baron came out and walked back to us: and he said to Lord Kerith-a-Thrain, 'She's promised to release my son. She's asked that we divide into two parts, as a sign of good faith--one here and one over there.' So Lord Kerith-a-Thrain said, 'I don't like that, my lord,' but the High Baron said, 'I want my son out of her hands: she's sworn by Frella-Tiltheh to do us no harm. Do as I say.'
"Well, so then he went back, my lord, and Lord Kerith-a-Thrain broke us into two lines, facing inwards, I suppose about three or four hundred yards apart. And we stood watching while the queen and her Palteshi officers led their army forward between us. The High Baron was walking beside her, and a young man as must have been his son, I suppose.
"And then, my lord, when they'd got fairly in between our two lines, the queen suddenly called out, and the men who were with her--four or five of them--they turned and set upon the High Baron and the young man and cut them down, and the queen stood and watched them do it.
"When Lord Kerith-a-Thrain saw that, he called out to attack them and so we did. But there weren't enough of us, you see. I'm certain we could have held off any sort of attack they might have made on us, but we simply hadn't got the numbers to make an attack ourselves--specially split in two like we were. There wasn't the coordination, like, you see, and most of the lads were that shaken by what they'd seen--well, there was something uncanny about it, my lord; hundreds standing watching and the High Baron going along that quiet and trusting--almost like he was a kind of sacrifice, as you might say. I can see it now, and the queen standing over his body on the ground. We was going in all anyhow and-and--well, it didn't work out, my lord, that's all.
"I never seen the end of it, because Lord Kerith-a-Thrain told one of our tryzatts to send two men back to Bekla at once with the news. So me and a mate of mine, Crevin, was told to get back here as quick as we could. I won't say I was sorry to be picked, either. Tell you the truth, I was glad to get out of it. We've never stopped, Crevin and me, for well over twenty-four hours. I'm all in and that's a fact."
"Where's Crevin now?" asked Randronoth sharply.
"Gone to the Barons' Palace, my lord, to report to Lord Eud-Ecachlon."
Randronoth turned to Maia. "This may turn out all to the good: Fornis is bound to have had losses. You've done well," he said to Brero. "Here's twenty meld. You'd better go and get yourself something to eat and drink."
"Why can't he bathe and eat here?" asked Maia.
Randronoth shook his head. "No, not here."
She felt angry. "Why not?"
"That's all right, saiyett," said Brero, before she could remonstrate further. "I'll just be getting back to quarters now. I expect we'll meet again when things are quieter. I hope so, I'm sure."
He saluted, turned on his heel and left the house.
And now what? wondered Maia. But she could not think clearly, could not dispel the dreadful picture in her mind's eye--the brown, dusty plain in the fierce heat, the divided, inward-facing ranks of the Beklans watching uneasily; and between them the gray, stooping figure of Durakkon, with his son, pacing beside the Sacred Queen--yes, in all truth as though ensorcelled, she thought. Who else but Form's could have exercised this power to make a man hand himself over to his own destruction; and then devised so stylish a public ceremony of treachery and murder? What pleasure and satisfaction it must have given her! Far more than the relatively paltry affair of Tharrin.
And what now? What now? Assuming that Fornis's Palteshis had succeeded in beating off the Beklan attack and getting between Bekla and Kerith-a-Thrain, they would probably reach the city some time tomorrow; certainly no later than the day after. Yet before then Randronoth's men would have arrived.
What would Eud-Ecachlon do? He would presumably be forced to make common cause with Randronoth: he would have no choice. And he would probably have been safe enough in doing so, too, thought Maia, had his enemy been anyone but Form's. For Maia, who had thought she knew the Sacred Queen, was now beginning--as had others in the past--to descry in her undreamt-of, far horizons of cunning and cruelty, and attribute to her insuperable powers. If Fornis intended to take Bekla, no doubt she possessed the demonic means to do so.
Randronoth was speaking. "What did you say?" she asked him dully.
"I said, 'I'm going up to the roof to watch for Seekron. Will you please come with me?' "
"I want to lie down," she said. "I feel bad."
"Tell your slave to bring a mattress up, then."
There was an awning over one corner of the roof, and here she lay in the hot, windless shade, hands pressed over her throbbing eyes. The Sacred Queen was coming: Zenka was in her power. And not only Zenka, but Anda-No-komis, towards whom her feelings were now utterly changed. She was a Suban by blood; he was not only her cousin but her rightful lord, to whom accordingly she owed a sacred duty of service and loyalty. Yet how could she hope to help either of them now?
Her very thoughts had become hysterical. She was obsessed by the figure of the approaching queen, the queen never at a loss for some vile, unforeseeable stratagem.
To her the queen no longer seemed a human opponent, but a kind of inanimate doom: a black pit; or rather, perhaps, a flexible, sticky web, in which the more one struggled the more one became enmeshed, until at length the victim hung inert--whether dead or dying was of no consequence, though the latter would afford the queen more enjoyment. So terrible now to Maia was this access of helplessness and despair that had it not been for Randronoth's enforced restraint she might, despite her love for Zen-Kurel, have fled from the city--yes, alone and on foot--anywhere, so long as it was away from Fornis. She did not believe that the combined forces of Randronoth and Eud-Ecachlon--she did not believe that any power on earth--could prevent Fornis from entering Bekla and putting her to death.
Once more--after how long she could not tell, though opening her eyes she saw that the sun was westering;--she was roused from her desolation by the sound of knocking below. She would have got up and looked over the parapet, but Randronoth, gripping her arm, held her where she was, himself kneeling beside her and waiting. After less than a minute they heard Ogma calling from below.
"Can't I go down?" she said.
"No: tell her to come up here."
Before Ogma had uttered a word it was plain that her news was bad. She stared from one of them to the other as though afraid to speak. Maia, catching her fear, started forward.
"What's happened? Who is it, Ogma?"
"It's--it's Lokris, Miss Maia," stammered Ogma, but said no more, as though to remain silent might somehow prevent the news from being true.
"Lokris? From Milvushina?"
"Oh, Miss Maia, she's been taken bad! She's in labor before her time! Lokris says the midwives are there and the doctor too, and they're afraid for her. She's in a bad way, Lokris says: and she's asked for you to go to her as quick as you can."
"Milvushina!" cried Maia. "Oh, why didn't I think of it before? I might 'a guessed!"
"Seems as 'twas all the upset and worry, Miss Maia; Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion coming back the way he did--"
"Yes, of course--"
"Lokris says ever since he got back, miss, he's shut himself up alone in the Barons' Palace. He wouldn't go to the Lord General's house. So in the end Miss Milvushina took Lokris with her and went to the Palace herself, but he wouldn't see even her; and that's where she was took ba
d. That's where she is now."
"Oh, my lord--Randro--" Maia collected herself. "Ogma, go down and tell Lokris to go back and say I'm coming at once."
As soon as the girl had gone she turned back to Randronoth. "Randro, I promise you--I swear by Frella-Til-theh I'll say nothing to Eud-Ecachlon or to anyone else. I swear I'll come straight back here--oh, within the hour if you say so--only please let me go to Milvushina!"
He shook his head. "This is war, Maia: Seekron will be here before sunset. Eud-Ecachlon--Elvair-ka-Virrion-- they're the enemy. I can't let you go anywhere where you might talk to them."
"But if I don't go it'll look more suspicious! Surely you can see that?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "By tonight the city will be in my hands. Until then you must stay here. Anyway, what good could you do?"
"She's my friend and she's in bad trouble! Oh, Randro, you said you loved me!"
"This is no time to argue, Maia."
Suddenly in the midst of her frenzied fear for Milvushina, an idea came into her mind; one so simple that she could only wonder that it should not have occurred to her before. This was Randronoth that she was dealing with-- Randronoth who had paid nine thousand meld.
She sat down and dried her eyes. After a little--he was still looking out southward--she said, "Well, I can see your point of view, Randro. It is war, and I know you've got to think of your men first. I'm sorry you reckon you can't trust me, but there it is: I must just try and accept it, mustn't I? Shall we go down, now, and have a drink in the garden? I could do with it, I know that. One of your soldiers could watch for half an hour, couldn't he?"