It was Sednil, carrying a candle. It had not occurred to her that it might be he who would come. She flung her arms round his neck and clung to him, weeping.
"Oh, Sednil, I'm so frightened! I just wish to all the gods as I was back at home! I'd never--"
"Easy, girl, easy now! It'll only be worse if you let yourself go to pieces. As for the gods, you can forget about them: they won't help you."
"It's the being alone, like; the having to go alone. I need--oh, someone to help me--"
He held her away from him, looking at her intently, a young man, yet already with every mark of skepticism and disillusion on his drawn, hard face.
"People's no different from animals--clawing each other; who's strongest, which can make t'other most afraid. Just set yourself to do what the animals do, girl: survive! Once you stop taking that much trouble, no one's going to do it for you, no more 'n if you were a rat in a ditch."
She nodded, paradoxically comforted a little by his bleak words, as people sometimes find themselves when unrealistic longings are cut away like broken tackle in a storm and at least they can see clearly what they have no alternative but to make the best of.
"People like you and me," whispered Sednil, fondling her, "we can't afford to be fools. Crying and carrying on-- that's a luxury; that's only for rich people. Listen, d'you know what that Tamarrik Gate's made of? I'll tell you: tears! The tears of thousands of ordinary people who were taxed and starved to pay for it, that's what. So it come expensive, didn't it?" He spat on the floor. "Wasn't me made that up, either."
"Who, then?"
"Oh, some drunken poet used to be a friend of Nennaunir. He's dead now, anyway. You better come on now, Maia, else there'll only be trouble. They've told me to go with you as far as What's-his-name--Bayub-Otal--where he lives."
"Oh, I'm glad it's you that's with me, Sednil. That makes it a bit better, sort of."
He nodded without replying and she followed him out of the door. There was no moonlight in the gallery or the staircase, and the candle, as they went on, threw a dreary succession of shadows which rose up before them and wavered either side before merging into the blackness behind. Once she heard a squeak and scamper in the wall and once drew back her bare feet from a cockroach scuttling out of the light.
At the foot of the stairs a priest was seated by the door. Raising his lamp, he looked Maia up and down in silence. Having apparently satisfied himself that her appearance was sufficiently bedraggled and wretched he nodded, slid back the bolts and held the door just wide enough for them to slip out one behind the other, into the moon-blanched courtyard.
Neither spoke until they had left the temple behind and were walking side by side down the Kharjiz, empty as a forest track.
"Not even a beggar. No one--nothing," murmured Maia.
"They don't let beggars sleep along the Kharjiz," replied Sednil. "There's rich merchants live round here, and they wouldn't want beggars dying outside their homes, would they? When the prisoners are marched to work in the morning, they have to pick up their chains and carry them, not to wake the rich people up."
They passed through the Slave Market, with its carved reliefs along the bases of the rostra, and Maia remembered as though it were long ago her shocked embarrassment when she and Occula had first seen the platform for the girls.
"What you said back there," said Sednil after a little, as they turned out of the Khalkoornil and entered the tangle of narrower streets near the western clock tower. "Said you didn't like being alone. But that's when you're safest, when you're alone: there's no one to twist you or let you down then, is there? Just remember that, and you might come back safe."
She nodded, blinking back tears. Sednil stopped and looked about them for a moment. "It's only just round the comer now." Suddenly he gripped her arm. "Here's a night-patrol coming, see? I've been wondering when we'd meet one."
Two soldiers in light armor, swords at their belts but without shields, were approaching at the unhurried pace of sentinels or watchmen. One carried a lantern, its flame barely visible in the moonlight. Sednil stood still as they crossed the street and came up to Maia and himself.
"What are you doing out at this time of night? Where are you going?"
"I'm a temple servant on business for the chief priest," replied Sednil. "Here's my token."
He drew out of his pocket a flat piece of wood about two inches square, which bore lettering and a painted Leopard cognizance. The soldier, taking it from him, examined it.
"Never seen one of these before."
"Keep it; I'm carrying several. That's what they're for. Take it to the temple if you want. They'll tell you I'm authorized."
The man paused and shook his head, clearly in two minds.
"This young woman--is she a temple servant too?"
"I'm escorting her to where she has to go."
The two soldiers looked at each other. "The fun sometimes gets a bit rough in the temple, does it?" asked the second soldier sardonically. "How did her face and clothes get in that state?"
"I've no idea," answered Sednil, "but I know what my orders are, and if you hinder me you'll have to answer to the temple for it."
There was another pause. Then the first soldier, pocketing the token, said curtly, "All right, not so much of your damned lip. 'Way you go."
Round the next corner, standing in the shadow of the western clock tower, Sednil pointed to one of a row of small, stone-built houses opposite.
"That's it; the third one, see? But how you're going to wake him--" Suddenly he gave a low whistle.
"Why, there's a light, look, shining through the ground-floor shutters-- see it? Either someone's up or else they've forgotten the lamp. Were you told he'd be up?"
"No," said Maia.
"We'd better have a look, then," said Sednil. "Quiet, now."
Maia followed him across to the front of the house. In the room behind the shutters she could hear someone moving quietly about. After a few moments Sednil plucked her sleeve and pointed silently to a chink. Shutting one eye and peering through, Maia saw Bayub-Otal pass across her line of vision carrying a folded garment. A moment later he came back the other way, empty-handed.
Sednil, leading her back to the opposite side of the street, took her in his arms and gently kissed her swollen mouth.
"Good luck! And don't forget what I told you. Keep a jump ahead of the bastards--whoever they are--and maybe we'll meet again yet."
Maia was filled with sudden panic.
"Oh, Sednil!" She looked at him piteously. "Come with me! Come on! You could be free! You could escape! I'll tell him--"
"Don't be daft! The guards on the gate have been told who they're to let through. You know they have."
With this he turned and walked away, leaving her alone.
Now that there was nothing to do but go on, Maia felt a sudden access of resolution. Pausing only a few seconds, she ran across the road and knocked rapidly three or four times on the shutters.
There was a sudden, startled movement in the room, but no one spoke. She knocked again.
"Who's there?" said Bayub-Otal's voice sharply.
"My lord, it's Maia! Maia! Let me in, for pity's sake!"
"Maia!" A panel of the shutter opened and she saw him standing before her. "What are you doing here?"
"Oh, let me in, my lord! Please let me in quickly!"
Swinging back a second panel to widen the opening, he helped her into the lamp-lit room. As he closed and barred the shutters behind her, Maia sank down on the floor as though exhausted. Bayub-Otal supported her to a bench by the table.
"I heard you'd been taken to the temple for questioning." Then, for the first time catching a clear sight of her face, "Gods! What's happened? What have they done to you?"
"Oh, my lord, there's no time to explain! Won't you help me? You promised--you promised you'd help me to get out of Bekla if ever I asked you."
"But I don't understand," replied Bayub-Otal. "How do you come to be here?"
"I
escaped, my lord; from the temple; not an hour ago."
"From the temple? How?"
"One of the guards--I gave him--I gave him what he wanted, to let me go."
"I see. And do you think they've found out yet that you've escaped?"
"I don't know. Not yet, perhaps, but they're bound to soon. Oh, please help me, my lord!"
"But how did you know where I was?"
"I knew where your lodgings were, my lord. Sencho knew--he knew everything like that. You will help me, my lord, won't you? If they catch me now--"
"Yes, I'll help you," said Bayub-Otal, "but we'll have to be quick. You're lucky to have found me here. I was warned, not an hour ago, to leave the city at once. I was intending to leave tomorrow anyway, but apparently they mean to arrest me on suspicion of having to do with the murder."
Kembri must have arranged this, thought Maia, to make sure that Bayub-Otal would be up and setting about his own flight when she arrived. That would make him less likely to question her too closely.
"I was just putting some things together." He pointed to a half-filled pack lying on the floor. "We must be off at once, before they know you're gone."
"Can I wash, my lord? Is there time? I'd feel so much better--"
"Yes, of course. Are you injured--wounded?"
"My shoulder hurts."
"Let me see."
She pulled the tunic to one side so that he could see the burn.
"O Shakkarn!" he said. "The brutes! This damned city! One day-- Did you tell them anything?"
"I couldn't, my lord, 'cos I don't know anything; not about the High Counselor's murder."
"Neither do I, but I wish I did. I'd gladly have played a part in it. That's why I'm suspected, I suppose."
Crossing to a door on the further side of the room, he called in a low voice, "Pillan!"
There was no response and after calling once more he went out into the passage, returning a minute later with a grizzled, stooping man carrying a towel and a pail of water.
"This water's not very hot--the fire's been Out an hour or two--but at least it's not cold. You can wash in here-- we'll leave you--but be as as quick as you can. And here's something to tie round your shoulder. At any rate it's clean--better than nothing."
Maia, in the act of taking the cloth from him, suddenly saw that the servant was staring at her with an expression of fear and amazement, making the sign against evil with a hand held before his face. She had not imagined that her appearance could be so grievous as to give rise to feelings of this kind, and herself felt frightened to see him muttering and gesticulating.
"Anda-Nokomis," stammered the man, turning to Bayub-Otal and speaking in an Urtan argot that Maia could barely understand, "what does--what does this mean? Who is this girl?"
He seemed almost about to run from the room. Bayub-Otal replied sharply.
"Control yourself, Pillan! Stop this superstitious nonsense at once! I'm quite aware of what's troubling you; but there's nothing to be afraid of, do you understand? Just pick up that pack and bring it into the kitchen with you. Be quick, Maia! As soon as you're ready, just leave the water and come through: we'll be waiting for you. I've got a cloak you can wear, but no sandals, I'm afraid."
"I'll be quick, my lord."
They went out. She stripped and washed, wincing as she touched her bruises and in her haste splashing a good deal of the tepid water over the floor. Then, clenching her teeth with disgust, she got back into her grimy shift and the once-white tunic, now stiff with sweat and dirt, and fastened its four remaining topaz buttons.
If only I could get some clean clothes, she thought, wouldn't matter how rough. Oh, I could cry with it!
The short passage let her into a brick-floored kitchen where--or so it seemed--Bayub-Otal was vehemently warning or admonishing his servant in some way. He broke off as she came in. The man, with a surly air of acquiescing rather than accepting whatever his master had said, went across the room to where his cloak was hanging on a peg. Bayub-Otal handed her a dark, smoothly-lined cloak--no doubt his own--and wrapped himself in a rougher one of coarse, gray cloth. Piilan blew out the lamps and they went into the courtyard. At the gate Bayub-Otal motioned to Maia to wait while Piilan, silently lifting the latch, stepped out into the street and stood looking this way and that. After a few moments he turned his head, nodding, and they followed him out.
It was barely three hundred yards back into the Khalkoornil and in less than five minutes, without encountering anyone at all, they were descending its final length towards the Gate of Lilies. A dim light was shining from the half-open guard-room door, but the only soldier to be seen was the sentry on duty who, having taken off his helmet and leant his spear against the near-by wall, was sitting on a bench in the shadow of the arch. Becoming suddenly aware of their approach he hurriedly sprang to his feet, snatched up his spear and challenged them.
Bayub-Otal, throwing open his cloak and spreading his arms wide to show that his sword and dagger were both sheathed at his belt and that he carried no other weapons, walked up to the sentry and stopped in front of his extended spear-point.
"I'm traveling to Urtah: I need to make a very early start. These are my servants, who are going with me. Will you please let us out?"
"No one's allowed out, sir," replied the boy. "Not until the gate's opened at dawn, and that's another three hours and more."
Maia had already been told by Kembri that the sentry would refuse to let them out; and that she was thereupon to say, as a pre-arranged password, that she was as thirsty as an ox and to ask him whether he could give her something to drink. She said this now and at once the soldier, replying that he would see what he could do, went into the guard-house and returned with the yawning tryzatt. While Maia drank some of the sharp wine which the boy brought her, the tryzatt conferred with Bayub-Otal over a bribe. Maia, well aware that the man must have received secret instructions to let them go, felt impatient of this play-acting. Whatever sum was finally agreed, Bayub-Otal was plainly not concerned to drive a bargain. A quick clinking of coins was followed by the unbolting and opening of the postern to one side of the main gates.
They passed through. Before them, in the light of the now-setting moon; lay the empty length of the highway to Dari-Paltesh. Maia's bare feet, used as they had once been to stones and miry lanes, had grown soft during her months in the High Counselor's household. Seeing her shrink, Bayub-Otal gave her his arm. Pillan fell in behind them, and as the postern shut to at their backs they set out towards the wooded country west of the Beklan plain.
43: NORTHWARD
After following the paved highway for some time they reached its junction with the road running north into Urtah. This was not much more than a broad track, its ruts and marshier places mended with stones or felled saplings laid side by side. After some three miles it entered woodland, where trees stood thick about the verge and in places overhung it. The moon had set and in near-darkness Bayub-Otal and Pillan went forward warily, with drawn swords. They met no one, however, and within the hour, from an open place, saw first light creeping into the sky on their right.
Soon the track forked and here Bayub-Otal slid off his pack, sat down and turned to Maia with a smile.
"Tired?"
She laughed. "Never in the world, my lord. I can go 's far as you like."
"There wasn't time to offer you food when you came. Would you like some now?"
"Oh, that's kind of you, my lord, but not yet." (The priests had in fact given her a good meal late the previous night.)
"You're probably right." He evidently interpreted her refusal as a prudent wish to put first things first and push on. "We'll both have been missed by now. We'd better not stay on the direct road to Urtah: we'll play safe and lose ourselves."
"What's your plan, then, my lord? Where are we making for?"
"That all depends on the news I get; if I get any. I may or may not go to Kendron-Urtah: but if I do, I shan't take you there."
"Why not, my lor
d?"
"I'm afraid you must leave the decisions to me." The cold, almost contemptuous note that she knew so well had crept back into his voice.
"But what we have to think about now," he resumed after a few minutes, as they went on down the narrower, divergent track, "is getting into Urtah by back-ways. Once we're actually there--across the Olmen, I mean--we'll be able to take things more easily. We'll be safe then. My father would never give me up to Bekla, and the Leopards couldn't make him."
"How far's that, then, my lord, d'you reckon?"
"Forty miles at least; it could be fifty. But with luck we ought to reach the Olmen the day after tomorrow. Can you do fifteen miles a day for three days?"
"I reckon so, my lord; but I'd go a lot easier if only I had some sandals and if I could get rid of these filthy dirty clothes."
"I think you may be able to, tonight."
Once again she felt what a strange, incomprehensible man he was. He had shown himself ready to risk his life to save--as he supposed--that of one of the most desirable slave-girls in Bekla. Now he was speaking matter-of-factly of not taking her with him to his destination. What was she to make of it? And at this rate how could she hope to obtain any information of value to the Lord General?
Dawn was now breaking along the eastern skyline in a long, smooth band of ochre, and the woodland round them was full of bird-song. The dark-red east turned first to crimson and then, as the sun itself appeared, to a dazzling gold too bright to look at. The zenith became clear blue, while before them the northern horizon lay in a purple haze, foretelling a hot, cloudless day.
Some way ahead, at the foot of an open slope, stood a grove of empress trees, covered with their mauve, trumpet-shaped blooms, and suddenly, as she looked down at them, a kynat, the purple-and-gold harbinger of summer, flew out from among the branches, uttering its fluting call. In the distance shone a soft, yellow mist of wattles in bloom, and beside the track were growing clusters of three-petalled trillium lilies. Stooping, she picked one and tucked it behind her ear. The return of summer had been a familiar blessing all her life, and now she responded to it almost unthinkingly, one of thousands of living creatures to whom it meant the restoration of energy and confidence. She was lucky Maia, secure in her youth and beauty. The dread of torture was gone; the filthy prison was gone.