"Oh, no; no, no," said the other, withdrawing one hand from beneath his clothes. "Nice girl like you, do very well, very well. Yer, yer."
"You understand, of course," said Maia, assuming an air and feeling very self-possessed and business-like as she recalled the words of a cattle-dealer who had come to see Tharrin a week or two before, "you understand that I can't just rightly conclude the matter at this moment? I shall need to have a word with my partner--I mean my stepfather--and see you again. Where shall I be able to find you?"
That was good, she thought--"be able to find you."
The shorter man burst into a high-pitched laugh, but made no reply.
"That's all right, dear," said Morca. "The gentlemen understand very well. They've just asked us to have a drink with them before they go back to Meerzat, so let's all sit down nice and comfortable, shall we, and take it easy?"
For the first time Maia noticed that four battered pewter goblets were standing on the table, already filled. They certainly did not belong to the house. Suddenly it occurred to her that this might be some sort of custom, like striking hands, or earnest money (she knew about that), which might later be held to have committed her. Ah, but I've got my wits about me, she thought. Mother's only thinking of the money, but there's a lot more to it than that. I'm not going to lose my head or rush into anything.
"Very pleased, I'm sure," she said primly. "But this is quite without any--er--without any promising, of course. A drink, but not to say a bargain yet: that's right, isn't it?" She smiled graciously at the sandy-haired man--the other seemed just a grumpy fool, she thought--and sat down on the bench.
"Oh, no, no," he gabbled, seating himself beside her. "Oh, no bargain, no!" The tall man remained standing, but Morca sat down opposite, picking up a cup in each hand. Maia noticed that she was sweating heavily and that her hands were trembling. The sultry weather, she thought; she had seen enough of pregnancy to know that it sometimes had this kind of effect.
"Feeling a bit queer, mum?" she asked. "You all right?"
"Oh, well, this'll put me right," answered Morca with a laugh. "It'll pass off quick enough. Now here's yours, sir, and this one's for you, Maia--"
Stooping, the tall man, without a word, leant over and took out of her hand the goblet she was offering to Maia. Morca bit her lip--and no wonder, thought Maia; we may be poor, but at least we've got better manners than that-- and then gave her one of the remaining two goblets which the sandy-haired man pushed across the table.
"Well, here's good health to us all!" said Morca rather shrilly.
Maia took a sip of tepid, yellow wine. The taste was strong and strange to her, though perhaps a little like the licorice sweetmeats she had once or twice tasted at Meerzat. It was not altogether pleasant, but it was certainly heady; of course (she told herself), as Tharrin had once said, girls of her age had to be at it for a while before they could really enjoy the taste of certain wines; but it would not do, before these men, to appear childishly inexperienced.
"It's very nice," she said, making herself take a longer draft. "Yeldashay, isn't it?"
"Oh, you're very nice, yer, very nice girl," said the sandy-haired man, touching his goblet to hers. Raising one hand, he stroked Maia's shoulder; then dropped his arm, laughed and looked away. Maia, to cover her confusion, took another mouthful of the wine. At least that was better than the man's breath, which had quite disgusted her. And no wonder, she thought, with those teeth. I wonder whether his employer knows he behaves like this when he's out working for him? Still, I'd better not risk offending him, I suppose--he might say something against me when he gets back. She edged a foot or two away along the bench.
"That's a lovely dress you brought with you, isn't it?" she said, to resume the conversation. "The flowers are beautifully embroidered. Do you carry the dresses round in that cart? I suppose that's what it's for, is it--so they can lie unfolded, and it's shut-in on top to keep out the dust an' that?"
"Oh, yer, that's the way, that's the way," answered the man. "There's lots in the cart now, plenty of others-- prettier than that, too."
"Prettier than that?" asked Maia. "Really?"
"Oh, yer, yer," he said, draining his goblet. "Want to come and see? Finish up what you got left, and I'll show y' if you like."
"I'll finish it when I come back," said Maia. "I'd like to see the dresses."
"Go on, you can drink up that little drop, dear," urged Morca.
"Too strong for you, is it?" laughed the man. "Not had any the like of that before, eh? Like it when you're older, when you're older, that's it."
"I like it now!" retorted Maia indignantly.
With this she finished the wine, swallowing with an effort which she did her best to conceal. Then, standing up, she led the way across to the door.
The tall man followed her closely, stooping under the lintel as he came out. The leaves hung unmoving in the hot, noonday air and the lake, level to the horizon, reflected a cloudless sky. The birds had fallen silent. Even the oxen under the trees seemed to have ceased their restless stamping and tossing. The stillness was so deep that Maia's ears could just catch, far off, the sound of the falls. I'll go down there and cool off this afternoon, she thought. Where's Kelsi and Nala got to, anyway? Reckon it must be well past dinner-time. Like to see the dresses, though.
Crossing the waste patch, she caught her foot in a tangle of bindweed, stumbled and almost fell.
Recovering herself, she realized that she was feeling dizzy. That wine had certainly gone to her head. She wished the dealers had not come while Tharrin was away. The sandy-haired man had quite upset her with his wretched fidgeting and pawing. Still, I suppose I'll have to learn, now, how to deal with that sort of nonsense, she thought. Bound to come across the likes of him now and again, I dare say.
Coming up to the cart she swayed, closing her eyes and biting on her thumb to bring herself round.
Unspeaking, the tall man lifted her bodily, turned her round and sat her down on the iron step below the cart door.
The sycamore leaves had become a green, mottled blur flowing up and over her head. She tried shutting her eyes, but at once opened them again, sickened by the sensation of turning a kind of floating somersault.
"I'm--I'm--trying to--" she said gravely to the sandy-haired man, who had taken the padlock out of the staple and was opening the door. She bent forward, head between her knees, and as she did so the door swung outwards behind her, its corner just brushing her left shoulder.
"All right, Perdan?" said the sandy-haired man. The other nodded and pulled Maia to her feet.
"Right, miss," said the sandy-haired man. "Now you just have a look, have a look inside now, and tell us what you can see. Out loud, now, so's we can all hear."
Maia, finding herself facing the cart, stared into the sliding, trickling gloom of its interior. She could see nothing-- neither dresses nor anything else. The oblong space, insofar as she was capable of perceiving it, looked completely empty. She began to speak, but then found that for some reason she could only do so very slowly, word by word.
"I--come--over--funny," she said. "Want--mother-- tell--her--"
As her surroundings misted and dissolved, she felt herself lifted once more and pushed forward supine into the long, narrow body of the cart. Before the door had shut upon her she was already lying senseless, stretched full length on the floor.
5: A JOURNEY
Just as light before dawn increases gradually and without, at first, any obvious source, so that it is impossible to tell the precise instant at which darkness has ceased and daylight begun, so Maia's consciousness returned. In the midst of a confused dream she became sensible first of discomfort and then of a continuous, afflictive motion from which there was no relief. As though in a fever she tossed and turned, trying but failing to be comfortable. Little by little she became aware that she was awake. Her body, from head to foot, was being jolted and shaken, not roughly but without pause. Next, through another gate of her senses, came
a fusty, mucid smell, not strong but pervasive. And at last, like a terrible sunrise completing the destruction of twilight, came the recollection of the men, the cart and her own fainting-fit. Immediately she opened her eyes, sat up and looked about her.
For a few moments she could neither focus her sight nor make any sense of what little she could see.
Then she realized that she was sitting on a soft, padded surface--as soft as her own bed or softer. The place she found herself in was like a little, oblong cell, perhaps seven feet long and about two or three feet wide and high. It was dim, for the only openings were two slits, one on either side, immediately below the roof. The whole interior--all six surfaces--was covered with a kind of coarse quilting. It was from this that the musty smell came. Here and there the quilting was torn and tufts of coarse hair protruded like stuffing from a burst mattress.
The whole kennel was in continual movement, gently bumping and swaying, with now and then a sharper jolt; and with this went a creaking, trundling sound. There could be no doubt where she was. She was inside the strange cart, which was going slowly but steadily along.
Her head ached, her mouth was dry and she felt frowzy and sweaty. What had happened after she had fainted? Why wasn't she at home? All of a sudden the answer occurred to her. Her mother must have been so keen for her to take the wonderful job and make the family's fortune that rather than lose the opportunity she had sent her off with the dress-dealers then and there. The more she thought about this, the more stupid she felt her mother had been; and she would tell her so, too, the moment she got back. To let her be driven away in a closed cart, without her tidy clothes (such as they were), without her own agreement and without telling her where she was going or when she'd be coming back; probably spoiling the bargain, too (whatever it might be), by showing such eagerness to clinch it at any price! Maia fairly gritted her teeth with annoyance. Tharrin should hear all about it the moment he came home--which was where she herself must set about returning immediately, even if she had to walk every step of the way. Where was she, anyway? On the Meerzat road, presumably, which she would therefore, by nightfall, have covered four times that day.
Turning on her stomach, she thumped her fist on the quilting in front of her, shouting "Stop! Stop at once!" There was no reply and no alteration of the slow, uneven movement. Quickly she turned head-to-tail and pushed hard on the door at the back. It gave a fraction before being checked against the padlock and staple. She was locked in.
No sooner had Maia grasped this than she flung herself once more at the front of the quilted box, battering and shouting in a frenzy. When at length she paused for breath she became aware that the cart had stopped. There followed the click and squeak of the opening padlock and a moment later the door swung open to reveal the tall man peering in at her.
With a keen sense of her tousled, undignified appearance, Maia slid forward, lowered her feet to the ground and stood up.
It was early evening; the air was cooling and the sun sinking behind the trees. They were halted on the edge of a dusty, rutted track. The bullocks, having pulled the cart at an angle to the verge, were cropping the dry grass and heat-withered flowers. On her left was a belt of trees, on her right a few fields among wasteland stretching away to the lake in the distance. This was nowhere she knew. The cart was pointing southward, certainly, but the road and surroundings were strange to her. They must, therefore, now be beyond Meerzat and further along the shore of the lake than she had ever been.
Turning to face the tall man, she saw that he was holding in one hand a kind of thin, leather leash, like those used for hounds. He rather resembled a large, unpredictable hound himself, she thought: though there was nothing amusing in the comparison. His scowling silence was frightening but, as with a hound, it was important not to show fear.
"There's been a mistake," she said. "I don't know what my mother's told you, but I can't go with you now, or start the work yet. I never said as I would, you know. You'll just have to take me back home."
The man snapped his fingers and pointed into the back of the cart.
"Well, if you won't take me back," said Maia, "reckon I'll just have to walk back myself."
She took a step past the man, who immediately caught her by the wrist and, with a kind of snarl, flung her back against the cart so violently that she cried out with fear and pain.
"Steady, Perdan, steady!" said the sandy-haired fellow, appearing round the end of the cart. "Mustn't damage the goods, y'know. Might lose commission, yer, yer." He turned to Maia. "Come on, now, miss. No good crying over a broken pot, you know. What you want? You want to shit or just piss, which is it now?"
Maia choked back her tears. A cunning thought had come to her. Once she had got a little way clear of them she would run. She might or might not be a match for the tall man, but it was worth trying.
"The first," she answered, avoiding the coarse word.
The sandy-haired man took the leather leash from his companion, fastened it round her neck and gave it a gentle tug.
"Come on, then," he said, sniggering. "Good doggie! No, don't try to undo it, miss, else I'll only have to get rough. Don't want that, do we?" He patted her cheek.
"How dare you treat me like this?" blazed Maia. "You just wait till my stepfather hears of it! I'll be damned if I'll work for you, or your master either; no, not for a fortune I won't!"
The tall man seemed about to speak, but the other cut in quickly.
"Don't tell her, Perdan. Makes it easier, yer, long as possible. Come on now, miss, d'you want to shit or not?"
Holding the leash, he led her across the road and a few yards in among the trees. Here he stopped.
"Well, go away!" she said, pointing. "Right away, too! Back there!"
"We better get this straight," replied the sandy-haired man. "I can't leave you; got no chains, see? But it'll be a good two hours to Puhra, so if you want to do anything you'd better get on with it, yer, else you'll only be laying in there in your own muck."
"You mean you're taking me to Puhra by force? How can you s'pose I'd work for your master after that? Does he know what you're doing?"
The man made no reply but, still holding the leash, turned his back on her.
"Go on if you're going."
Weeping with shame and humiliation, she crouched and relieved herself; then allowed him to lead her back to the cart and lock her in.
The creaking and rumbling began again, but soon afterwards the cart stopped once more. From the murmur of voices and the bovine stamping and blowing, Maia realized that they must be changing the bullocks. Probably they had already been changed once earlier in the afternoon, while she lay asleep.
Evidently these men had standing arrangements along the roads they used.
It occurred to her to call out for help from whomever might be talking to the men. Yet instinctively she sensed that this would be useless. Besides, she had conceived a terror of the man with the broken nose.
Though born poor, Maia had never experienced any violence worse than her mother's fits of temper, and unconsciously she had grown up not to expect it. The tall man's unhesitant use of force had frightened her badly, leaving her with the flinching realization that here was someone to whom terror and the infliction of pain were all in a day's work.
She was still unshaken in her determination to go home at the first opportunity, but clearly there could be no attempting anything for the time being. She would have to wait until they reached Puhra. She had never been to Puhra in her life, and knew of it only as a small fishing town, presumably much like Meerzat, at the southern end of Lake Serrelind; though of a trifle more consequence on account of lying not far from the high road between Thettit and Bekla. No doubt there would be ordinary, decent folk there who would help her to get away from these disgusting men.
The time dragged on. Her headache, as she lay in the stuffy, musty-smelling box, grew worse, until she felt near-feverish and too much confused to think clearly. At last, from sheer exhausti
on, she dozed off again, and woke to feel the cart rumbling over a paved surface.
A minute or two later it stopped and she heard the men talking together as they got down. She waited for the door to be opened, but instead the voices receded and vanished. Listening, she could hear various sounds from outside: clattering pots, the shutting of a door, a thudding noise like someone beating something soft and heavy--bedding, perhaps--against a hard surface. There was a smell of wood-smoke and cooking, but no bustle, cries or other normal sounds of a frequented place. Wherever they were, it was evidently neither a tavern nor any sort of big house full of servants.
After some time she heard footsteps returning; the lock clicked and the door opened. The sandy-haired man, holding up a lantern, was grinning in at her, his face a half-and-half mask of light and shadow. As she was about to slide out of the cart he put down the lantern, grasped her ankles, pulled her towards him and began to stroke her thighs.
Maia, struggling, kicked him in the stomach, and he staggered back, cursing. A moment later her satisfaction turned to terror as she realized that there was no escaping him, confined as she was in the box. She lay cowering like a rabbit, staring and waiting.
The man, winded but recovering his breath, leant forward, his hands on the sill of the opening. She realized that she had excited rather than deterred him.
"Steady, missy, steady now," he said at length, smirking and showing his horrible teeth. "I might go and fetch Perdan; wouldn't like that, would you? He's apt to forget himself, y'know, is Perdan. Now I just want to be nice,"
Maia once more burst into tears. "O gods, can't you let me alone? I'm tired out, I'm took bad. Surely to Cran you can understand that much?" She scrambled out onto the cobblestones.
Plainly her anguish had no more effect on him than that of a snared animal on a trapper, who has seen the like many times and in the circumstances would be surprised not to see it. For some seconds he stood in silence, looking her up and down. Then he raised a dirty hand to her cheek.
"Well, y'can just make yerself comfortable now, yer," he said. "I'll take y' in where yer going, that's right."