If there were indeed Ortelgans out there in the wasteland beyond the camp, then surely they could only be those whom Ta-Kominion had led to Chalcon as part of Elvair-ka-Virrion's force. Five hundred Ortelgans; she recalled Bel-ka-Trazet saying so at the barrarz. She remembered, too, how he had also said that their assignment was largely a matter of policy. "We have to keep in with Bekla. But see your men come back alive, that's all. And if you have to get out, get out through Lapan."
Could it really be the whole of Kembri's army out there, with the Ortelgans nearest? Or had Ta-Kominion, perhaps, after the defeat on the highway and the deposition of Elvair-ka-Virrion, decided not to wait for Kembri, but to save his men and make the best of his way home rather than face destruction with the Leopards?
Maia stood abstracted, musing in the darkness, while all around the soldiers made a final search of the shelters, here and there coming across some bewildered woman or terrified, deserted child and guiding them down to the river.
She had liked Ta-Kominion and he had liked her. It was he who had opened the bidding at the barrarz; he had gone to three thousand meld, she recalled--probably most of what he had in the worlds--before being obliged to drop out.
It would be no use trying to talk to Elleroth: no use trying to talk to Anda-Nokomis. As responsible soldiers they could not discount the possibility that it might be Kembri out there; or even if it was not, that whoever it was might strike first and ask questions afterwards. They would tell her to leave their own business to them and join the other women across the river.
But if she herself could only get to Ta-Kominion and tell him that these Sarkidians had no more wish to fight than he had, then any amount of misunderstanding and bloodshed might be prevented. It would be no use waiting until the morning. Once blood had been shed, injury sustained, pride aroused, these men would be at each other like cocks in a pit.
Yet if it was Kembri's whole army? He would most probably put her to death, if only for having been with Elleroth. He desired her death, as she knew. For long minutes she stood irresolute, feeling Sphelthon's invisible presence, his gaze upon her in the darkness. She raised her eyes to the glowing stars.
"O Lespa! Send me a sign! Only send your servant a sign!"
At this moment, from somewhere in the camp, there came faintly to her ears the cry of a lost child.
"Mother! Mother!" The voice was Tonildan.
Maia began to run. Bending low and peering this way and that, she dodged between the huts, came to a dry watercourse, dropped silently into it and began making her way along it in the opposite direction from the river. After going about two hundred yards she climbed out on the further side, lay prone until she was sure there was no one near and then set off eastward through the dried-up bushes and scattered clumps of trees.
She went cautiously, dodging from one thicket to the next and stopping continually to look ahead of her and listen. At all costs she must avoid running into one of Elleroth's patrols and being brought ignominiously back to the camp, for in that case it would certainly be supposed that she had been deserting--or perhaps even worse.
Once she thought she heard voices at a distance, but after waiting for some time decided that it could only have been her own frightened fancy. The scrub was open enough for her to keep direction by the stars, and this she took for a sign of Lespa's favor. Any road, she thought, there's no Valderra here.
Whatever happens, I shan't drown.
None the less, she was never for a moment free from apprehension and the fear of death. The solitude, utterly still, seemed menacing. There was not an owl, not a bat to be heard. The very silence of this wilderness seemed unnatural. Twice she almost turned back; and twice glimpsed Sphelthon glimmering among the trees, a wraith that vanished even in the instant that she perceived it. Her tears were falling, but whether for him or for herself she could not have told.
For perhaps half an hour she wandered on through the empty wasteland, a prey to every kind of misgiving. Perhaps it had all been a false alarm and there were no soldiers at all? Or perhaps, whoever they were, they had already gone. Perhaps she had taken the wrong direction and already left them somewhere behind her. If they really existed, perhaps they were not Ortelgans at all, but runaway slaves like those with whom Meris had lived in Belishba. Even if they were Ortelgans, nevertheless Ta-Kominion might not be with them. He might be dead; or they might have mutinied against him. If he was with them, it now seemed to her unlikely that she would be allowed to speak with him at all. Or even if she were, why should he believe her, why should he trust her! What proof could he have that she was not a decoy sent by Elleroth?
Yet still she went on. The only possible thing to do, she thought, was to act on the assumption that the Ortelgans were there, that they were alone and that Ta-Kominion was with them.
She was picking her way through a thick grove of scrub willow when she once more heard voices. This time there was no doubt about it: they were low but distinct. As she stopped, holding her breath, she realized with a shock that they were very close--no more than twenty or thirty yards away among the trees.
She stood listening intently.
". . . should've stayed where we were, if you ask me."
"All depends, though, don't it? Who's to tell?"
Silence returned. She wondered whether the men had moved away; yet she had heard nothing. After what seemed a long time she heard a cough. Then the first voice, still speaking low, said, "The basting rains, though; how's he think we're going to get back once they start?"
"Well, I reckon soon as he's sure which way it's gone he'll go over, that's his notion."
"What, to Erketlis, you mean?"
"Ah. Quickest way home, see?"
This was enough for Maia. The men were speaking so quietly that she could not be sure of their dialect, but what she had been able to hear had convinced her that they must be Ortelgans speaking of Ta-Kominion. Well, she thought, reckon this is what I come for. If I'm going to die I'd best just get on with it. She called in a low voice, "Can I talk to you?"
There was a sound of startled movement, and then one of the men replied, "Who's there? Who are you?"
"I'm a woman, and I'm alone. Can I come and talk to you?"
"What you want, then?"
"I'm a personal friend of Lord Ta-Kominion. I've got an urgent message for him."
She could hear the men muttering. Then the same voice said, "Who's it from, then? And who are you?"
"I'll tell that to Lord Ta-Kominion."
At this moment a new, authoritative voice said, "What the hell's all this basting row? Weren't you told to keep quiet, eh?"
"It's some woman, tryzatt, off in those trees," said the second man.
"What the hell d'you mean, a woman?"
"Says she knows the commander; wants to see him. Knew his name an' all. Got a message, she says."
"I'm alone, tryzatt," called Maia. "Can I come and talk to you?"
The tryzatt was evidently a man of fairly quick mind. "Where did you meet the commander?"
"In Bekla, at the barrarz in the upper city, with Lord Bel-ka-Trazet and Lord Ged-la-Dan."
"What's his woman's name, then?"
"Berialtis: brought up on Quiso."
There was a pause.
"Come out steady," said the tryzatt at length, "hands on your head."
Maia did so. The three men confronting her were typical Ortelgans, stocky and dark, the tryzatt, who had a raw, barely-healed scar across his forehead, considerably older than the two soldiers.
"A place like this--how do you come to be here?" he asked, looking her up and down.
"I've no time to explain," answered Maia, with as much authority as she could muster. "My message is urgent, see, and it could very well save your lives. You got to take me to Lord Ta-Kominion at once." As he hesitated, she added more vehemently, "For Cran's sake, what harm do you think I can do? Why else would I be here alone, in the middle of the night--"
"Well, that's what I'd li
ke to know," replied the tryzatt. But as he spoke he gripped her arm, turned and led her away with him.
They went fast through the trees and bushes. Soon Maia became aware that the tryzatt was picking their way among men lying on the bare ground. From what little she could see they were tattered and dirty, with a general look of ill-being. All were fully clothed, with their arms lying ready to hand. Most seemed asleep, but here and there a few, lifting their heads or propping themselves on their elbows, stared as she and the tryzatt went past. None spoke, however, and Maia guessed that their orders about silence were strict. Perhaps, indeed, orders were unnecessary: no doubt Chalcon had been a hard school.
They came to a rough shelter made of branches laid either side of a pole on two forked sticks; hardly more than a kennel, its ridge perhaps three feet from the ground. A sentry was standing beside it. The tryzatt addressed him in a whisper.
"This woman says she's got a message for the commander. Seems genuine enough."
"You're asking me to wake him?"
"That's for you to say."
"Well, be fair," replied the man. "You're the tryzatt, not me."
"You're his orderly, not me."
The man was beginning, "I'd best go and ask Captain Dy-Karn--" when from inside the shelter Ta-Kominion's voice said, "What is it, Klethu?"
"This is Maia Serrelinda here, my lord," said Maia quickly. "I need to speak to you urgently: for your sake, not for mine."
"Maia?"he replied in a tone of astonishment. Then, with a quick note of alarm in his voice, "Who's with you? What's happened?"
"There's nothing wrong, my lord, but--"
"Where have you come from? Who's sent you?"
"I've got some very important news for you."
"Wait, then."
After a few moments Ta-Kominion came elbowing his way feet first out of the shelter and stood up. He was wearing a ragged shirt and breeches and looked, as she could see even in the dim starlight, like a man utterly worn out; a very different figure from the high-spirited youth who had opened the bidding at the barrarz. Her expression, as she took his hands in greeting, must have revealed her feelings, for before she could speak he said, "You needn't waste your sympathy on me: we've plenty worse. But Maia, how in Cran's name do you come to be wandering about alone in a place like this? Are you on the run or something?"
"You could call it that. But now you must tell me something, my lord, 'cos I've got to know this if I'm to help you. Is this Kembri's whole army, or are you here on your own?"
He took her arm and led her away among the trees. Like the tryzatt, he spoke in whispers.
"Why do you ask me that? Why have you come?"
"Answer my question and I'll explain. It can't hurt to tell me: I can't leave here without you let me, can I?"
As he hesitated she took his hands once more, looking up into his bloodshot, hollow eyes.
"Honest, my lord, I only want to help you: and I've risked my hfe to come here."
"Everyone's life's at risk here," replied he. "I wouldn't give much for our chances now and that's the truth. We left Kembri's army the night before last and we've been going ever since. The men are on their last legs. We've got no food left, either. But I'll get some of them back to Ortelga yet, you see if I don't."
"Listen to me, my lord. There's a way to put the whole thing right, if you'll only do as I say."
"But who's sent you?" he asked again, impatiently.
"Just listen, my lord, please! Sit down and listen to me."
Ta-Kominion sat down on the ground, his arms round his updrawn knees, looking up at her with an expression suggesting that although he would like to believe her, he felt that to do so would be foolish.
"About a mile away over there," said Maia, pointing, "is Lord Elleroth of Sarkid. He's on his own like you, and I should guess he's got about the same number of men."
Ta-Kominion seemed about to spring to his feet, but Maia restrained him.
"They know you're here, but they don't know yet whether it's only you or Kembri's whole army. What I'm trying to tell you is that they're as much afraid of you as what you are of them."
Ta-Kominion buried his face in his hands. "Oh, Shardik, that's about all we needed! Pinned against the river, too! That's basted everything!"
"No, it hasn't, my lord. Don't you see, if you're not fighting for the Leopards any more, Elleroth's got no quarrel with you? You ought to join him--he needs men--it'd be as big a weight off his mind as what it'd be off your'n. Why don't you come back with me now and talk to him?"
"It's a trick! A Beklan trick!" In the half-darkness the girl Berialtis had come up silently and was standing beside them, clutching a soldier's cloak round her. She was shivering in the hot night and looked no less wretched than everyone else whom Maia had seen. "Don't go, Komo! She's lying!"
Her dark eyes glared at Maia--the eyes of a fanatic, intensified by fear and privation.
Maia stood up and faced her. "All right, that's it, then; I done my best. My lord, I hope you'll have the kindness to let me go back where I come from."
"Be quiet, Berialtis," said Ta-Kominion. "I'm commanding here, not you. Maia, how can I be sure of this man Elleroth--heir of Sarkid, isn't he? How can I be sure I can trust him?"
"My lord, I'll be honest with you. Like I said, no one's sent me: I just thought this lot up on my own. Lord Elleroth doesn't even know I've come--"
"You're not his woman, then?"
"Oh, Cran, no! I just don't want to see the two of you tear each other to bits, that's all; 'cos that won't be no good to you nor nobody."
"Berialtis, go and wake Dy-Karn and bring him here. Don't argue; just do as I tell you for once."
"You let yourself be taken in by this Beklan bitch; an unbeliever! I haven't forgotten that filthy barrarz, if you have--"
"Neither have I," said Ta-Kominion, getting up. "I'll go myself: you'd better come with me, Maia."
Reaching his shelter, they found a group of four or five young men whispering together.
"These are all the officers we've got left," said Ta-Ko-minion. "Captain Dy-Karn, my second-in-command: Maia Serrelinda."
There were murmurs of surprise. "You'd better tell them, Maia, what you've just told me," said Ta-Kominion.
Maia did so.
"But this Elleroth's an out-and-out heldro, isn't he?" asked Dy-Karn. "Why else would he be with Erketlis? If you trust us all to him, Komo--"
"All I can say is I've met him," said Maia, "and I don't reckon as he's one to take unfair advantage. I can't say n'more, 'ceptin' they're all as scared of you as what you are of them." As they hesitated, she added, "You don't have to surrender to them nor any o' that. Just offer to join them. Any road, what else you going to do?"
"By the Ledges, and I reckon she's about right there!" said another of the officers. "No food, men worn out, couldn't fight if they had to--"
"When we left Kembri, you see," said Ta-Kominion to Maia, "no one else knew what we were going to do, naturally. We reckon his lot can't last even until the rains. Erketlis'll destroy them; and we weren't going to wait for that. We were reckoning on crossing the Zhairgen by the Ikat high road, but we found the bridge held by Beklans-- too many for us: so we had to come on downstream. I've been hoping we might get across somehow at Nybril, but obviously we can't get to Nybril if Elleroth's in the way."
"Elleroth's got a raft on ropes across the Zhairgen," said Maia. "He's cutting his way through Purn, but he needs more men to make sure of it before the rains. If you was to join him, I reckon he could probably feed you an' all. How many you got?"
"Only about three hundred and fifty now. We lost a lot in Chalcon."
"The girl's right, my lord," said Dy-Karn. "After all, we can always tell this Elleroth that if he won't have us, we'll sell our lives very dear. I'll come with you if you want."
In the event three Ortelgans set out with Maia; Ta-Kominion, Dy-Karn and an older officer named Selta-Quaid, who limped on a stick and appeared to have been wounded in h
alf a dozen places from head to foot. The men had been woken and were standing to arms. Word had, of course, got round of what was toward. As they passed through the different groups there were murmurs of "Good luck, sir!"
"Tell 'em we're not beat yet, general!" "Bring us back a few sheep, sir!" and the like. It was plain that Ta-Kominion still retained their loyalty and confidence.
The short summer night was drawing to an end and the sky behind them paling. The wilderness seemed as empty and almost as silent as before, save for the first pipings of awakening birds. She herself felt ready to drop. She had been tired enough the night before, and had had only an hour or two of sleep.
But Sphelthon: ah! he was asleep now; deeply and peacefully. She could feel it in her heart, his peace, gleaming like dew on a meadow. He was gone, but had left his blessing upon her. She had poured out on his poor, far-away grave the offering of her night's fear and resolution, and it had been sufficient even for Frella-Tiltheh.
She was startled from these thoughts by her name being called from a distance. All four of them stopped in their tracks, listening. The sound was coming from some way off among the broken woodland. There was, to say the least, nothing furtive about it. It was like the crying of wares by a street-trader. "Maia! Maia!" Whoever was calling plainly did not care who heard him. After the long hours of stealth and whispering, the concealment and silence of the tense night wanderings, the effect seemed almost preternatural, a shattering of normality sharp as lightning or the sudden falling of a tree.
After a few moments Maia (who had recognized the voice) replied, "Here I am!" There was strenuous movement in the bushes some way off, a sound of running footsteps and next moment Zen-Kurel, armed, burst out of the undergrowth and halted a moment at the sight of the Ortelgans. Then he drew his sword.
Maia's companions instantly drew also, but she ran forward, stopping midway between them and Zen-Kurel.
"What's happened, captain? What's brought you here?"
He looked at her, opened his mouth to speak and then looked away, seeming out of countenance.