Grasping her firmly by the arm, he led her across the cobblestones, the lantern swinging from his other hand.
The twilight was not yet so deep as to prevent her from taking in her immediate surroundings. She was walking up a long, rather narrow yard, its paving overgrown with rank grass and edged with clumps of dock and nettle. In places the stones were gone altogether, leaving only patches of dusty soil. In one corner lay a pile of refuse--rags, vegetable peelings, bones, fragments of broken harness. As she looked, a rat scuttled out of it. Behind her the bullocks, still in the shafts, had been hitched to a post beside a pair of high, spiked gates fastened with a bar and a locked chain. On one side of the yard stood an open-fronted shed containing three or four more beasts, while along the other extended a high wall which abutted, at its further end, on a stone-faced building. This, though solidly built and clearly old, was dilapidated. Weeds were growing among the bro-ken roof-tiles, and in several places the stone had fallen away, revealing the brick-work behind. The ugly door, however, was new and very solid, and the windows (through two of which candlelight was shining) were barred. The whole place had an air of having seen better days, and also, in some indefinable way, of having been turned over to a use other than that for which it had originally been built.
Maia thought that it might perhaps be--or once have been--the servants' quarters of some big house, but could not see, in the gathering darkness, whether there was any other building beyond. The surrounding silence, unbroken save for a late bellbird drowsily calling somewhere out of sight, hardly suggested it. One thing was clear: there was no hope of getting out of such a place on the sly--not even by night.
Looking up, she could see the stars beginning to twinkle in a clear sky. "O sweet Lespa," she prayed silently, "you see me from those stars. Send me help, great queen, for I'm alone, in trouble and afraid."
Her prayer was indeed to be answered, yet in no way she could have foreseen.
The sandy-haired man, pushing the door open with a thrust of his foot, led her into a candle-lit room.
Before Maia's eyes had taken in anything, she felt on the soles of her bare feet a kind of cool smoothness and, looking down, saw that the floor was made of slate flags--a luxury entirely out of her experience. Earth and rushes were what she was used to. Then, glancing round in the candlelight, she saw that the room, though dirty and untidy, was better appointed than any she had seen before. To Maia a room was the same thing as a dwelling, consisting of stick or mud-and-wattle walls and a plank door, enclosing an area of hard earth, a brick or stone hearth and chimney and a thatched roof. The room she was now in, however, was evidently one of several in the house. Its windows--two of them--were both set in the wall fronting on the courtyard. At each side were hinged shutters, left open on this night of late summer. Opposite was a second door which must lead into the rest of the house. The walls were wooden-panelled and the flat ceiling, darkened with smoke, was of close-fitting planks supported by cross-beams. The hearth, where a fire was burning, had a wide, iron fire-basket and beside it, in a recess, lay a pile of sawn logs and broken sticks. In the middle of the room was a heavy table which, though scratched and dirty, retained here and there a few faint traces of polish.
The general air of the room, even to Maia's inexperienced eyes, was of a once-handsome place fallen on shabby times. It smelt; not of clean prosperity, but of grime and neglect. The floor, plainly, was seldom swept. There were cobwebs round the windows and the table was covered with candle-droppings.
The broken-nosed man, Perdan, was already seated at supper. His two knives were stuck into the table beside him and he was now eating, with his fingers, the ham, eggs and onions which he had already cut up. At his elbow, beside one of the candles, lay a wineskin, its neck tied with twine.
As Maia entered with her guide, an old, black-clad woman, stooping and red-eyed, looked up from the fire. She seemed about to speak, but the sandy-haired man forestalled her.
"Come on, y' basting old bitch, where's my supper, then, supper, eh?"
Opening one of the horn panels in the lantern, he blew it out and then shut the door. He was about to bar it when the old woman stopped him with a gesture.
"There's another to come yet, U-Genshed," she said, coughing as she spoke. "Megdon's bringin' another from Thettit; special one, coming alone. Be in later tonight, he said."
"All right, all right," answered Genshed, putting down the door-bar. "The basting supper, I said! And after that you can get out to those bullocks. I left 'em for yer special." He laughed, loosened the string of the wineskin, filled a clay cup and drank.
The old woman, however, remained staring at Maia where she stood dishevelled and haggard in the candlelight.
"Oh, that's a pretty one, isn't it?" she said quaveringly. "That's a beauty! She going up with this lot, then? 'Mother for Lalloc, is it?"
"Yer, and he don't know yet," answered Genshed. "We just happened to come by her, acting on information received, yer, yer. So she's still off the record, in't she?" Closing his fingers round Maia's upper arm, he led her to the bench opposite Perdan and sat down beside her.
The old woman, without replying, turned back to her cooking-pots and filled two wooden dishes, which she carried over and set down on the table.
"Bread," said Genshed, pulling one of them towards him. "And why don't you give her some basting knives, you old cow? Think she can cut it up without?"
The old woman obeyed him and then, wiping her hands on her skirt, muttered "See to the beasts, then," and went out into the yard.
Worn out and frightened to the point of collapse, Maia could scarcely have collected herself sufficiently to tell any-one even her name or where she came from. She tried to eat, but the food tasted like straw and she could not swallow. Every few seconds she shut her eyes, breathing in gasps and feeling her pulse pounding. She was now long past thinking about how to get out of the house. She was an exhausted, terrified child; and the worst of her fear was that while she now knew that her situation could not be as she had supposed, she had no idea what it might really be, or what was likely to befall her. Yet it was bad; of that she felt sure. Each time she opened her eyes it was to see the baleful face and hunched shoulders of Perdan opposite. Each time she closed them, she felt Genshed's hands groping at her back, her neck or her arms.
Suddenly, just as the old woman reappeared, she rose to her feet, swayed, clutched the edge of the table and then, before Genshed could catch her, slid to the floor unconscious.
Perdan stooped and lifted her bodily in his arms.
"Open the basting door, then," he said to Genshed, nodding across the room, "and bring a candle."
"Top room on the right, Perdan," said the old woman over her shoulder. "The left-hand room's for the other one--the one Megdon's bringing. There's blankets up there already, and the lock and chain's hanging on the wall in-side."
6: THE BLACK GIRL
Waking in an instant, Maia started up in bed with alarm sharp as the snapping of a stick. Looking round her in the darkness, she could make out only a square of deep-blue sky, pricked with a star or two and crossed by the black lines of the window-bars. She was still dressed in her clothes, but covered by one or two coarse blankets. Some insect had bitten her right ankle and the place was itching. She scratched it quickly with the rough skin of her other heel.
After a moment she became aware of what must have woken her; a sound of stealthy movement somewhere close by. Simultaneously, she perceived the shape of a door facing her, a few feet beyond the foot of the bed--an ill-fitting door, with chinks between its planks and a chain passing through two holes, one in the edge of the door and the other beside it in the jamb. And this she could see because there was light outside; a flickering light which, throwing glimmers through the chinks, showed her that she was in a small room--no more than a cell--containing her bed, a stool and a bench against the wall under the window.
Someone outside the door had released the chain and was pulling it through the h
oles.
Sitting on the bed, knees drawn up, and biting her fingertips in her terror, she watched as the chain was slowly drawn out. To scream did not even occur to her, so complete was her unthinking conviction of the hostility--or at best the indifference--of anyone likely to hear her.
Creaking slightly, the door opened inwards, just clearing the foot of the bed, to reveal Genshed holding up a candle.
As their eyes met he smiled, as though pleased to find her awake. His hand, shaking slightly, sent shadows wavering along the walls.
"Y'all right, then?" he said in a whisper, stepping into the room and putting the candle down on the stool.
Maia made no reply, only shrinking back against the wall as Genshed sat down on the edge of the bed.
"Oh, y'needn't be frightened of me," he went on, staring at her with his mouth slightly open. "Just come to see if y'all right, that's all. You fainted, y'know--fell on the floor downstairs, remember?"
She nodded.
"Did y'hurt y'self? Any bruises, eh, nice bruises?"
She shook her head.
"Well, better have a look, hadn't we?" said Genshed in a thicker, more intense whisper. His spittle, as he spoke, fell on the back of Maia's hands clutching the blankets to her chin. She turned them over, wiping them quickly, and as she did so he suddenly leant forward, plucked them aside and dragged the blankets to the foot of the bed.
"No!" she cried desperately, and instantly one of his hands was over her mouth, while the other ripped her smock from throat to waist. Panting, he forced her down and flung himself on top of her, tugging at her shift, his knees forcing her legs apart. Feeling him pressed against her as she had once felt Tharrin, she was filled with unspeakable horror and loathing. Struggling, she jerked her head forward and her forehead struck him violently in the face.
Genshed, blood pouring from his nose, knelt back on his heels.
"You dirty little tairth!" he whispered, "Cran, you'll just about wish you hadn't--"
Very deliberately, he drew a knife from his belt, turning it in his hand so that it glittered a moment, paralyzing her with fear. Then, holding the hilt loosely, he began jabbing the point here and there, lightly pricking her wrists, her arms and shoulders. As she whimpered, cringing one way and another and vainly trying to avoid the thrusts, his enjoyment plainly increased and the bloody mask of his face grinned in the candlelight.
At length he laid the knife aside, and rose to his feet beside the bed.
"Now, my pretty little pet," he said, and pulled his leather jerkin over his head.
At this moment, just as his head came clear of the garment, a dark presence, like an apparition, appeared in the doorway, took a step forward and dealt him a swinging blow on the side of the neck. He stumbled against the wall, and as he did so the figure kicked him in the stomach, so that he fell to the floor.
Everything had happened so fast that Maia had had no time even to feel relief. Utterly bewildered, she stared up from where she lay, by no means sure whether her rescuer might be human or supernatural: and for this uncertainty she had some reason, since the figure before her was like no one she had ever seen in her life.
Standing at the foot of the bed was a girl a few years older and a little taller than herself, with a broad nose and short, curling black hair. Completely naked, her lithe, slim body was dark brown--almost black. She was wearing a necklace of curved teeth; and thrown back from its fastening round her neck, so that it hung behind her from shoulders to knees, was a scarlet cloak. As she blinked, Maia saw in the candlelight that her eyelids were painted silver.
Meeting Maia's eyes, the girl smiled briefly. Then she picked up Genshed's knife and tried it in her hand with the air of one not unused to such things.
At the same moment Genshed turned over, sat up on the floor and set his back against the rough, lime-washed wall.
"Stay there, you blasted pig," said the black girl quietly. "Doan' try to get up, or I'll cut your zard off and stuff it up your venda."
Her voice, smooth and unusually low, had a curious, exotic quality, as though she were speaking--albeit with complete fluency--a language to which her lips and palate were not entirely suited. Her words were not ended in the manner of common utterance and her accent was not Tonildan.
Genshed, staring up at her, wiped the back of one hand across his blood-smeared face and spat.
"Who the hell are you?" he said. "What d'y' think you're doing, comin' in here? Give me that knife and get back to your room."
"You mother-bastin' little tairth of a slave-trader," replied the girl evenly, without raising her voice, " I doan' have to ask what you were doin'. You work for Lalloc, doan' you? and I suppose you'll tell me you doan' know it's a strict rule that stock-in-trade's not to be raped or interfered with by the likes of you? You zard-suckin' little swine, this is goin' to cost you your job before I've done."
"Not so much of your basting lip!" cried Genshed. "You just give me that knife, now!"
"Yes, you can have the knife," replied the girl. "That poor little banzi's bleedin' along of you, you filthy bastard; I could make you bleed: but I'm not goin' to waste any time on you. For now, I'm just goin' to get you out of here and later, back into the gutter you came from: or even into Zeray, I wouldn' wonder. Here's your knife."
On the instant she threw it by the blade across the few feet between them. The point pierced Genshed's calf to a depth of a good inch, and as he grabbed the hilt with a cry of pain, dark blood welled out and flowed down his leg.
The black girl, with a quick movement, drew one wing of her scarlet cloak across her body and stood coolly looking down at him.
"I'm val'able merchandise," she said. "You know that, doan' you? I'm to arrive at Bekla in perfect condition. And you're just a dirty little nit-pickin, venda-crawlin' menial; there's any number like you. You try an' touch me and I'll cut your balls off. Now put that lousy jerkin on again and get out of here." She kicked it into his lap.
"All right, all right, less of it now," said Genshed, in the tone of one who feels himself beaten but is trying not to show it. "Who d'you think, you are, anyway?" Pulling a dirty rag from somewhere under his clothes, he began dabbing at his bleeding leg.
A small, dark man, with the look of an Ortelgan, whom Maia had not seen before, appeared in the doorway and stood staring at the scene before him.
"Who am I, Megdon?" said the black girl. "You better tell him." .
The dark man smiled. It seemed to Maia that he did not like Genshed.
"Her name's Occula," he said, "from Thettit-Tonilda."
"Yes!" cried the girl, raising her voice for the first time. "I am--the Lady Occula, you stinkin' little tairth-trader. Have you ever heard of Madam Domris?"
"Runs a knocking-shop in Thettit, Thettit, don't she?" muttered Genshed, without meeting her eye.
"Runs a knockin'-shop in Thett, Thett, Thettit!" mimicked Occula, spitting on him where he sat slumped on the floor. "I'll give you knockin'-shop, you leakin' little piss-bucket! You wait till she hears you said that! Madam Domris's shearnas are famous all over the empire! And I'm one of her girls, you shit-faced maggot! Do you know what I'm worth? Well over ten thousand meld, that's how much--more than you'll see in a lifetime!"
"Well, I never touched you, did I?" replied Genshed sullenly.
"No, and you wouldn' dare, you squitterin' cockroach; but you thought you'd get away with havin' a bit of fun on the side, didn' you, with this poor little banzi, on account of you picked her up by chance, I suppose, and she's not on a list yet--Lalloc's or anyone else's. Think I doan' know your cunnin' little ways, you pox-faced rat? But worse, you woke me up! Just when I'd managed to get to sleep in this crawlin' pigsty--I'm bitten like a dog already--I'm woken up by snivellin' cesspits like you, tryin' to rape helpless little girls. You crawlin' lump of offal, I suppose you think Lalloc's goin' to think that's the way for his shearnas to make a good start--to be terrified and force-basted by menstrual turds like you?" She paused. "Well, do you? 'Cos I'm goin
' to tell him, no danger."
Her voice, easy and controlled, dominated the room as a curlew's a hillside. It was as though Genshed had inadvertently opened a trap, thereby causing her foul language to come pouring over himself in a smooth, mephitic stream.
A silence fell. Occula, having waited for Genshed's reply long enough to make it clear that there would be none, turned her back on him. The candle, already burned low, began to gutter.
"Right," said the girl at length, "Megdon, will you please bring two fresh candles into my room? As for you--whatever your name is--I could make you wash this girl and clean her up, only she wouldn't care to be touched by a disgustin' worm like you; so I'll just oblige you and do it myself. Go and get me some hot water with herbs in it, and a clean towel. And doan' be long, either."
"Fire's out," muttered Genshed. "Middle of the night, ennit?"
"Then light it again, baste you," replied the black girl, without turning round. "And you, banzi," she said, turning to Maia with a sudden flash of white teeth, "you'd better come in next door with me; come on!"
She held out a pale-palmed hand. Maia, hardly knowing what she did, grasped it and went where she was led.
7: A FRIEND IN NEED
The room across the passage--what little Maia could see of it in the candlelight and her own shocked and exhausted condition--was larger than the one she had left, as was the bed. There were two or three stools, and near the door a small wooden chest with two bronze handles and some lettering branded over the lid. Occula, releasing Maia's hand, ran her own forefinger over the first two or three characters.
"Can you read, banzi?" she asked.
Maia shook her head. "Precious little. Can you?"
"Sort of," answered the black girl. "Anyway, that's my name. Old Domris gave me this, for my clothes an' things, 'fore I left Thettit-Tonilda. You can put your own things in it if you like. There's enough room."
Before Maia could reply, Megdon came in with two fresh candles, a towel and a wooden pail, the steam from which gave off a pleasantly herbal smell.
"Didn' I tell that other bastard he was to bring the hot water?" asked Occula.