Elvair-ka-Virrion hit him across the back of the neck with the steward's staff, and he flung up his hands, his voice cut short. One of his penapa necklaces broke, and the big, rosy-pink stones (like a lot of half-sucked sweets, thought Maia) were scattered over the floor.
A girl screamed, and there were cries of anger and contempt. The Belishban captain grabbed another knife and rushed at Ged-la-Dan, shouting something incomprehensible and getting close enough to spit in his face before two of his comrades dragged him back.
"Damned Ortelgans!" called a voice from somewhere beyond the lamps. "Why don't you go home and jump in the Telthearna?"
It was at this moment, while Maia hung trembling in Elvair-ka-Virrion's arms and Ged-la-Dan still stood facing Randronoth (who looked alertly up at him but made no move) that Bel-ka-Trazet came forward. As calmly as though breaking a dead stick from a tree, he took the knife from Ged-la-Dan's hand, whispered something in his ear and then turned to Elvair-ka-Virrion.
"I must beg your pardon, my lord, on behalf of my companions and of Ortelga." He paused, and for a mo-ment his horrific face appeared yet more distorted as he struggled with his feelings. "You'll realize that this is no easier for me to say than it would be for" (he swept the room with a gesture) "for anyone else. Please accept my apology. Let us now forget this incident and proceed."
His self-control and resolute air of propriety was in such marked contrast to what had gone before as to have an immediate effect. Most of those present, angry and contemptuous though Ged-la-Dan's behavior had made them, could still appreciate what this must be costing him and feel themselves in favor of sparing his feelings. An intensely proud man, he was doing what had to be done, and hating every moment of it.
As he broke off Nennaunir, looking, in her erotic trinkets, the very epitome of a wanton, tripped demurely forward, flung her arms round his neck and kissed him on his slashed, twisted lips.
"Of course we understand, my lord, and all of us gladly accept your apology. I know I'm speaking for everyone here."
She is a clever girl, thought Maia: she really is. They'll remember that; the girl who embraced Bel-ka-Trazet of her own accord and kissed him.
But now Nennaunir was speaking to her. "All right, Maia darling? Going on? We're all enjoying it if you are."
Even though she was well aware that this was four-fifths the adroitly acted self-advancement of an experienced courtesan, Maia could not help feeling grateful. No doubt the shearna would have been only too delighted to be standing where she herself was standing now, but if this were so, any envy she might be feeling was under full professional control. Ever since her own return to Bekla, Maia reflected, Nennaunir had never said a spiteful word to her, either in public or in private, and had always been ready with friendly advice.
She smiled. "I'm fine, Nan, thanks."
Thereupon she nodded to Elvair-ka-Virrion, who kissed her cheek before releasing her and turning back to Bel-ka-Trazet.
"And your friend's bid, my lord: shall we forget that, too?"
"By no means," replied Bel-ka-Trazet. "It was made, and I will accept personal responsibility for it."
"Well, then," continued Elvair-ka-Virrion smoothly, turning to Randronoth, "I have eight thousand offered, it seems, and that's against you, my lord."
The governor of Lapan nodded in acknowledgement, but said nothing. Suddenly Maia was filled with dismay. The enormous sum reached had apparently daunted even Randronoth. He was not going on; and who could blame him? And she--O dear Lespa! she would have to spend the night either with Ged-la-Dan or with Bel-ka-Trazet. Biting her Up, she struggled with a rising nausea. She began to salivate, and quickly emptied her mouth under pretense of drinking again from her empty goblet. O Shakkarn! she prayed silently, Shakkarn, only save me! I can't face it!
Once again Elvair-ka-Virrion addressed Randronoth.
"Would you like a little time to consider, my lord? Shall we have a short interval now?"
Immediately Randronoth rose to his feet. For one agonizing instant Maia thought that he was about to walk out of the hall. For several moments he paused, as though to relish the last morsel of the occasion (the most extravagant, surely, in which even he could ever have participated, thought Maia). At length he answered, "No, thank you. It's for everyone else, not for me, to take time--to regret what they've let slip." Then, with Elvair-ka-Virrion looking inquiringly at him, as though for formal confirmation of what he had just implied, he added almost casually, "Nine thousand meld."
A long murmur, as of completion or fulfillment, ran through the hall. Maia, whispering, put her hand quickly on Elvair-ka-Virrion's arm. "For Cran's sake stop now, Elvair! I can't take no more! I'd rather find the other thousand myself!"
"Sure?" asked Elvair-ka-Virrion.
"Yes, my lord! I just can't stand n' more, not now I can't."
Elvair-ka-Virrion nodded, smiled and turned towards the guests as though to address them again.
However, he had no need. It was clear that the legendary auction of the Serrelinda--for legendary it became in Bekla, and indeed throughout the whole empire--was concluded. Friends and sycophants were gathering round the governor of Lapan, addressing him with the half-congratulatory and half-envious admiration usually shown by people towards a man who has done something which, though they may consider it reckless and foolhardy, they cannot help wishing they had had the gall to do themselves.
Randronoth, however, plainly wanted none of this. It was not for show or notoriety but for that incomparable body (mounted by Sednil for nothing in a dusty attic of the temple) that he had bid nine thousand meld. As a slave handed him his cloak he raised his hand unsmilingly to those around him, walked over to where Maia was still standing beside Elvair-ka-Virrion on the table and, climbing up beside them, put the cloak round Maia's shoulders. Having stooped and picked up the cherry-colored robe, he was about to help her down when Elvair-ka-Virrion stayed him.
"The money, my lord? A mere detail, of course, but we need to know--"
"She shall have every last meld in coin by dawn tomorrow," answered Randronoth. "Where would you like it brought, saiyett?"
"To my house, please," replied Maia.
Now that the horrible prospect of Ged-la-Dan had been lifted from her, she felt light as a summer cloud.
She'd done it! Fornis was defeated, Tharrin was saved! All that remained was to spend the night with Randronoth. Weary though she now felt, his craving, she knew, was such that little more than acquiescence would suffice. Smiling in her relief, she kissed him warmly and lingeringly, cheek and lip.
"Let's go there now-- now-- shall we?" And then, with a sudden rush of spontaneous ardor, "Oh, thank you, my lord, for--for winning! I'm that glad as 'twas you!"
Yet during the hours that followed---those hours during which Randronoth seemed almost demented, so that even after his desire had spent itself once, twice and again he could not let be, but must still be caressing and touching her with hands, lips, tongue; embracing and fondling as though the gratification of his lust had been a mere preliminary to the more serious business of satisfying some even deeper need--she could not help wondering, as it would never have occurred to her to wonder last year in Sencho's house, what it was that he supposed he had bought. Her feelings were in no way engaged: her heart was far away; she was indulging him like a child, and this not because she had any particular wish to hold back or give him short weight, but because that was all she had it in her to do. Such as she had to give she was giving him-- and little enough to her it seemed. Yet of this shortcom-ing--a mantled sun, a clouded sky--he was plainly unaware. He knew no better. The strings were not in tune, but this he could not perceive. Once, dropping off to sleep, she dreamed vividly that Zen-Kurel had come into the room and was standing silently beside their bed. She started up with an anguished cry, but Randronoth only laughed, took her by the shoulders and fell to kissing her breasts. Yet hadn't her distress been obvious? she thought, once more acquiescing. Well, if it had not, perhaps th
at was all for the best.
Throughout the whole night, though he was unfailingly courteous and also showed himself considerate and adept enough, she was roused no more than once, and that at the outset; and this impersonal, animal want once met, fell back upon the kind of pretense that Occula had taught her to employ with the High Counselor. It was not difficult: she remained sincerely amiable and compliant, for the thought of Tharrin saved burned like a bright lamp in her heart, filling it full of tolerance--pity, even--for this poor, besotted man, who could see yet not reach her, his heart like a moth on a lighted window-pane.
64: THE MORROW MORN
Maia, who had slept again for an hour, woke soon after first light to see Randronoth, at her dressing-table, wetting his fingers to quench the smoking lamp-wick he had just blown out. As soon as she spoke he crossed the room, knelt at the foot of the bed, took one of her feet between his hands and began kissing it. She stroked his cheek with the other. "You're up early."
"I'm happy," he answered.
How early, she was wondering, could she practicably expect to gain access to Fornis to ask for Tharrin's order of release? Well, she would simply go to the house as soon as she could, and if that was too early, she'd sit and wait.
He looked up at her, smiling, "I can't do any more-- more's the pity. Once I could have."
"Forty-one's no age, Randro." Then, fearing that he might suppose that she had known men of his age more virile, she added, "You've shown me that already. It's silly to try and force yourself, after we've had such a nice time." She patted the still-warm place beside her. "Come back and lie down. There's something I want to ask you; something that's very important to a great friend of mine."
"Which friend?"
"Nennaunir. You knew her very well at one time, didn't you? You saw her yesterday and talked about me?"
"Oh, she told you, did she?" For the first time he seemed displeased. "You've only to tell a girl something, and it goes buzzing about the city like a bluebottle."
"But darling, don't be silly; of course she told me. It was to help you! She told me you'd said you wanted me terribly, and would she speak to me about it? That was why I arranged for the auction at the barrarz, so that you could have me." (He'd believe this, she felt sure; and anyway it was near enough true.) "I'm not touching a meld of the money, you know."
Lying down once more beside her, he made no reply, only looking at her with an expression of disbelief.
"It's true, Randro. The money, that's between you and the Leopards--or the army--or the temple. One of them, anyway: how should I know? But it's not for me at all."
"Well, I heard Elvair said that, but I didn't believe him."
"Well, you can. All I'm asking for, on my own account, is the same as Nan asked you for--to get poor Sednil exchanged out of the temple: to take him down to Lapan and see if you can't discharge him early."
He frowned. "Sednil? What's Sednil to you? Why do you so particularly want me to take all this trouble over Sednil?"
At this she burst out at him. "Cran and Airtha, Randro, it's easy enough to see you've never been in trouble, let alone a slave! Can you imagine what it's like to be someone else's property? To possess nothing of your own, to have no rights at all, no say in where you go or what you do or even whether you live or die? That boy's as innocent as you and me" (and a damned sight more than you, she thought) "and if it hadn't been for that stupid ring of yours, as you gave to Nan, he'd be free today. He's Nan's friend and he's my friend. People like us, who've been down on our luck and seen bad times, we try to help each other. Is that so very hard to understand?"
"Oh, I love to see you get angry!" he said. "You really drive me crazy, Maia! All right, I'll get the boy exchanged, I promise you, and I'll have him discharged within three months. I was wrong: put your arms round,me. No, you stay on top. Oh, gods! Ah!"
Later he said, "You know I have to go back to Lapan today? Why don't you come with me? I'll make you--"
Gravely, she shook her head. "No, dear, that's impossible. Don't press me."
"I don't know how I'm going to live without you, Maia. It could easily drive me to desperation, d'you know that?"
"You say that now, Randro; but there's others. You can pretend otherwise."
"Not like you. I've never known anyone like you, Maia. I'll find some reason to come back soon. But if I do get Sednil released--and you can give Nennaunir my word for that--will you spend another night with me as soon as I can get back to Bekla? I shall be eating my heart out until then."
In spite of all she knew of him, she could not help feeling touched. The truth was that Maia had never quite been able to accept the effect of her beauty as something for which she bore no responsibility. (This was why she had behaved so generously and warmly to Selperron in the Caravan Market.) She knew that when Randronoth said that his longing made him feel desperate, he was speaking no more than the truth, and she felt not only sorry for him, but sorry also to have been the cause of it. In a way, she felt that she had wounded him for her own ends and ought perhaps to make some restitution. After all, she had quite deliberately set out to exploit his infatuation, and it had cost him enough.
"Well--"
He gripped her hand. "Yes?"
A promise with no date for fulfillment is always perilously easy to grant, especially for the young. Maia's mind was running with excitement and pleasure on the release of Tharrin. She felt full of the elation of success.
It had been a desperate venture and she had pulled it off. But she owed this to Randronoth--to his obsession and his reckless extravagance. Besides, to refuse would only upset him--just when everything had gone off so well. Nennaunir was going to be delighted, and she herself--well, she felt more than rich enough in spirit to give him a kind answer.
"Yes, darling, of course I will: only you must keep quiet about it. This auction was one thing, but if it gets round that you're counting on going to bed with me next time you come to Bekla, that'll be--well, I mean--I'd be--"
He smiled. "Compromised?"
"Something o' that. Any road, I wouldn't want everyone knowing: so just you remember."
Suddenly she sat up in alarm, listening. "Whatever's that downstairs?"
What she had heard was heavy knocking at the outer door. There followed JarviFs voice and another male voice answering. Randronoth, also listening, nodded unperturbed.
"That'll be two of my men, bringing your money. I sent them orders last night, before we left the barrarz."
"You mean it's really down there? Nine thousand meld, in coin? Oh, Randro! Thank you! Thank you!"
She kissed him more warmly than she had throughout the entire night. "Oh, I must go down and see it!"
Jumping out of bed, she flung her robe round her. Then, turning back to him with shining eyes, "Of course it's not that I don't trust you! You know that. It's just that--oh, I'm so glad! I'm so happy about it!"
He frowned, puzzled. "But you just said you weren't going to get any of it for yourself. Maia, what's all this about? Has it got you out of a mess or something?"
She kissed him quickly. "I'll answer that if you'll answer me another. Nine thousand meld--in ready money. Where did it come from?"
That had stopped him in his tracks all right; she could see that. He paused.
"Never ask me, Maia; you leave that to me. I'm hopelessly in love with you: I had to have you. That's enough for you--and best for you, too, believe me. Come on, I'll go downstairs with you and make sure it's all there. Then we'll have breakfast--I need it--and after that I'll have to go. I wonder whether you'll ever realize how much you've given me!"
She had given him nothing, she thought. He had sought pleasure, he had found pleasure, but she had not bestowed it. How strange that he should be in no doubt that he had acquired something which she had not conferred; and more, that he should be so much dominated by this unreality! Just so, old Drigga had once told her, might two people be together and one see a ghost while the other could not.
 
; The Sacred Queen's garden was no less fresh and morning-scented than on the day before. The peacock was busy among a handful of cornseed which a gardener's boy was scattering on the sunny lawn, while from somewhere out of sight, behind the purple lam bushes, sounded the clicking of a pair of shears.
Maia, without waiting to announce her arrival, made her way round to the stone doorway. Direct prayers were never offered to Frella-Tiltheh--the unknown and un-knowable--but for a full minute or more she stood silently, with bowed head and outstretched palms, beneath the niche containing the cowled figure of the goddess; so long, in-deed, that at length Brero, waiting behind her, put down the box containing the money and turned aside to watch a squirrel in a near-by tree.
When at length she knocked, Zuno opened the door almost immediately. Pausing only a moment to glance towards the soldier in attendance behind her, he led the way across the red-and-white tiled hall and up the staircase. Plainly, she thought, her arrival had been expected; no doubt the events of the night were already known to the Sacred Queen.
At the top of the stairs he turned and said, "You're to go straight in. She's due at the temple soon, you see, and she won't--" He hesitated. "She certainly doesn't mean to be late."
The bedroom door was standing open. Maia stopped in the entrance, looking in. Fornis was bustling about the room, moving hastily from one place to another, yet to all appearances doing nothing in particular. She seemed both excited and preoccupied. As Maia watched, she spread out her hands in front of her, examining first one side and then the other. Next moment she picked up her comb and looked in the mirror, but almost at once put it down, went across to the window and stood tapping her fingers on the sill. She was wearing a deep-purple robe embroidered with gold thread and her hair, piled high, was enclosed within the sacred crown of Airtha. Now, at close quarters, Maia recognized the great emerald which Occula, in the temple, had known for her father's. Of Ashaktis there was no sign: the Sacred Queen was alone.