Maia coughed and made a slight movement. Form's, turning, for an instant, looked slightly startled, actually seeming not to recall who she was. Next moment, however, smiling cordially and graciously, she had come forward and taken the hand which Maia had raised to her forehead. Her own hand felt hot and sweating, and before speaking she passed her tongue once or twice across her dry lips.
"Maia! How delightful to see you again! I'm glad you've managed to come early: I should have been most disappointed to miss you; only I have to go out very soon, you see. Never mind: do sit down for a moment and make yourself comfortable. What a beautiful morning, isn't it?"
Her completely unexpected air of geniality and warmth left Maia--for some moments, at all events--speechless. Faced with any other woman who might have had the effrontery to adopt such a manner, following upon what had passed between them the day before, she would have found sufficient self-confidence to answer her as she deserved. But this was the Sacred Queen: nor was it only consciousness of her power and authority which threw Maia into confusion. There emanated from this extraordinary woman an almost hypnotic dominance and self-possession, so that quite possibly, if she had pointed to the moon and said, "Oh, look at the sun!" a hearer's first reaction might well have been to wonder whether there was something wrong with his own eyes or even with his own mind. Just so Maia, for a fleeting instant, found herself wondering whether yesterday's encounter in the archery field had really taken place, and then--since it had--whether perhaps it might have been with someone else and not with the queen. Then, and only then, did it occur to her that the queen was entertaining herself. It amused her to treat people-- particularly those who were helpless before her--with flagrant inconsistency, and to see how they responded while trying to keep themselves in countenance.
"Esta-saiyett," she began, "since you're in a hurry I won't keep you any longer'n what I need to. I've brought--"
"Oh, come now, there's not all that much of a rush, Maia," replied Fornis, motioning her towards one of the big, carved chairs and patting her forearm reassuringly. "Do you know, I feel quite full of curiosity about you? Do tell me--" and at this she leaned forward with every show of interest--"did you go to Elvair-ka-Virrion's barrarz for the Chalcon expedition?"
Did I--? But she must know every last thing about it, thought Maia.
"Yes, esta-saiyett, I was there for a time."
"And I suppose it was great fun, was it? Lots of young men from all over the empire? I expect you danced, didn't you? I've heard about your dancing."
"Yes, esta-saiyett: Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion asked me to dance."
"What did you dance?"
She wants to see me lose control. She wants to see me break off short and start in about Tharrin and the money before she does.
"I danced an old Tonildan tale, esta-saiyett, about Lake Serrelind."
"How charming! And the Ortelgan baron--er--what is his name, now?--he enjoyed it?"
"Lord Bel-ka-Trazet, esta-saiyett?" (That was one to her, she thought: obviously Fornis had meant Ged-la-Dan.) "He didn't actually say as much, but I believe he may have."
"But Randronoth did?"
"I'm sure he did, esta-saiyett."
"Yes." She smiled. "I'm sure he did. Well, of course, that's one of the delightful things about Randronoth. As Sencho once remarked to me, he's always extraordinarily easy to please. He's perfectly happy with almost anything. Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, esta-saiyett." She might have replied more, but meeting the cold, green stare above the smiling mouth, fell silent for very dread. Fornis was like the Valderra: it had not occurred to her till now that she might not get out alive.
There followed a short silence. "Well," said Fornis suddenly, "I expect you'd like to talk about your stepfather and the money, wouldn't you?"
"Thank you, esta-saiyett. I've got the money outside: ten thousand meld. Shall I ask my man to bring it in to you here?"
Fornis, still gazing at her with every appearance of sympathetic concern, nodded. Then she stood up briskly.
"No, no, I'll see to it; don't trouble yourself, Maia."
She went out the open door and Maia heard her walk down the corridor and call to Zuno. Her own pulse, she now realized, was beating very fast and she felt breathless. She wondered whether this had been apparent to the queen. Together with her fear of Fornis there had come upon her a vague but none the less disquieting presentiment--sprung no doubt from Fornis's cat-and-mouse affability--that some trick was about to be played on her. She tried to think what it could be. Fornis might say the money was short: she might take the money and refuse her the reprieve: or she--she might give her the reprieve and then have her murdered before she left the house. In sudden panic, Maia stood up and ran to the window. Perhaps she could climb down and get away before Fornis returned.
At this moment Brero came into the room--burly, familiar, smiling, the very embodiment of reassurance. In her unreasoning fear--the kind of fear Fomis so readily engendered--she had not considered what his presence here implied. Even Fornis could not hope to get away with the murder of a veteran of the Beklan regiment--or with cheating her before his eyes. True, he did not know the ins and outs of the business, but nevertheless he was--he could be--a witness.
"Brero," she said quickly, leaving the window and crossing the room to where he was standing, "I want you to stay close beside me, please, until we go. Don't leave me on any account, do you see?"
He looked surprised, aggrieved: probably he took it for a reproach. "Well, of course, saiyett; if that's what you say. I only stayed outside 'cause it was the Sacred Queen's bedroom, like. I mean to say--"
He broke off, but then resumed, "Reason I come in now, saiyett, she told me to say would you please just step outside and join her?"
She nodded and smiled, and he followed her into the corridor.
Fornis was seated at a narrow table beneath one of the windows overlooking the garden, while Zuno, kneeling at her feet beside the open box, was counting the money. As Maia approached he closed the box and stood up, nodding corroboratively.
The Sacred Queen, who had beside her sealing-wax and a lighted candle, forthwith set about affixing her seal to a small sheet of parchment lying on the table. Maia, who had never seen this done before, watched intently as For-nis, with practiced ease, melted the wax at the flame, dropped a round patch at the foot of the written parchment, wetted the seal with her tongue and pressed it down. The impress, precisely formed, depicted Airtha leaning over the sleeping Cran.
Forms picked up the parchment, shook it back and forth a few times to cool the wax and then handed it to Maia with a smile and a benign inclination of her head.
"There you are, my dear: and now I expect you'll want to be off, won't you? I certainly must be: you'll excuse me, I'm sure."
Getting up, she faced Maia for a moment, graceful, elegant and majestic. Though not an exceptionally tall woman, to Maia she seemed to rise above her like a tree, multifold, instinct with a quality of pliant, tense motion. She felt the Sacred Queen kiss her cheek and then saw her walking away with quick, agitated steps towards the stairhead.
The parchment felt cool, smooth and slightly greasy. Its very unfamiliarity seemed to confer upon it a magical, talismanic quality. Nevertheless she looked at it doubtfully, for not one word--not a brush-stroke--of what was on it could she read. Yet this alone--this thing of power-- comprised all that she had sought and gained from her long night's work. Unless there was some trick, this was the actual instrument that would save Tharrin's life.
The queen was gone. Maia turned to Zuno, still standing beside her.
"Zuno, please tell me: is this really and truly an order of release for Tharrin, and is it--well, is it all right?"
He took it from her and read it through deliberately. There were no more than five or six lines in all.
"What is the prison governor's name, do you know?"
"Pokada."
"Then it's entirely correct. It's addressed to him, it s
ays Tharrin' and the seal's her own and no one else's. You've only to take it down there."
"Oh, Zuno, I can't believe it! Somehow or other I thought she'd--oh, I'm so glad! Oh, thank you, Zuno, thank you! Give my fondest love to Occula, won't you, and say I'm sorry I didn't see her?"
With this she turned and, closely followed by Brero, hurried down the corridor, down the stairs, across the hall and out into the garden, the parchment still clutched in her hand.
At the Peacock Gate she dismissed Brero and his mate, put on her veil and took the first jekzha she saw. To be sure, there would not be a great many idlers about the streets of the lower city this morning.
Almost everyone who could would have gathered at or near the Blue Gate to watch Elvair-ka-Virrion and his men set out for Chalcon, but nevertheless she did not want to run any risk of being hindered on her way to the prison.
What would it be best to do, she wondered, once Tharrin had been handed over to her? Presumably he would simply be released to walk out through the prison gate: then she would have him entirely on her own hands. She couldn't take him back to her house in the upper city; that would never do. On the other hand, if she were to put him up at "The Green Grove" or "The Serpent" while she arranged for his return to Serrelind, there was always the risk--and no use pretending there wasn't--that he might skedaddle.
Thinking it over, she decided the best thing would be to pay Lalloc to look after him for a day or two. He wouldn't be able to bunk from Lalloc's. Not very dignified, certainly, but really and truly he had no claim to expect more.
And she'd see him right. She'd see them all right; even Morca! Only, Tharrin was damned well going to do his fair share of getting the family back on an even keel again. She'd send a reasonable amount of money every month-- ah! paid through Some reliable person in Meerzat an' all-- always provided he remained with the family, stayed out of trouble and did his fair share of keeping the place up together.
Yes, that was the sort of thing to arrange. She might, perhaps, be able to manage something through the father of that poor lad Sphelthon killed at the ford. She'd done right by him even before she'd returned to Bekla, borrowing from Sendekar enough to pay a messenger to go to Meerzat and tell his parents; and in reply had received an unexpectedly dignified and touching letter from the father (Sendekar had read it to her) who had turned out to be a clerk in the provincial government and obviously a most respectable man.
There did not seem to be many butchers or meat-mer-chants at work as her jekzha came up through the Shilth; though she had to wait some minutes--her jekzha-man taking care to keep well back--while a herd of bullocks were driven past on their way to the shambles. Getting down at the gate of the jail, she gave the man ten meld and told him to wait, saying that she did not expect to be more than a few minutes.
The mucous-eyed gatekeeper looked her over as listlessly as before.
"The governor, saiyett? Can't say, I'm sure. Only it's an execution morning, see? and that always means extras--"
She felt too light-hearted to be angry. Smiling, she gave him five meld.
"We've had all this before, haven't we? Just take me to U-Pokada's room, and then go and tell him as I want to see him very urgently."
In the little, bare room she sat down and waited, impatient for nothing, fretting for nothing, as content with the present moment as someone who has just completed a long journey or finished reaping a field.
She held the parchment in her hands, turning it this way and that and admiring the clear impress of the seal. Well, Cran and Airtha had been good to her, she thought. Perhaps, after all, even the Sacred Queen might not be without her good side. Nine thousand meld! Had any girl ever gone for as much, she wondered, in all the yesterdays of Bekla?
When Pokada came in she almost ran forward to take his hands before recalling the proper dignity of the Serrelinda. He had halted just inside the doorway, staring at her unsmilingty, his mouth drawn down in a startled, grotesque expression of dismay. He was roughly dressed--as roughly as any laborer--in an old, stained leather jerkin, sacking breeches and a torn woolen cap. His arms were bare to the elbow and down one forearm ran a long scratch, still bleeding, which he kept wiping with a dirty cloth.
"Saiyett--you must understand--I can't--not now--"
She held up one hand to silence him. Then, bowing triumphantly--making a little pantomime of it--she gave him the sheet of parchment.
"Read that, U-Pokada, please. Oblige me, U-Pokada, by reading that!"
Peering, he held it up to the light, saw the seal and started. Maia watched as his eyes traveled back and forth, slowly making out the few lines. Like enough, she thought, he wasn't much more used to reading than what she was. When he had finished he said nothing, only laying the parchment down on the table and staring at the floor without moving.
"Well, come on, U-Pokada," said Maia at length. "It's plain enough, surely? Only I got a jekzha waiting, see?"
"Saiyett," said Pokada, still avoiding her eyes, "the man is dead."
" Whan" cried Maia. "What the hell do you mean, dead?"
"He hanged himself in his cell this morning."
"I don't believe you! This is some trick to try to get money out of me or something! You just take me to him, now, and hurry up about it!"
As he said no more, she ran to him and beat her fists on his chest. "It's not true! Not true! Come on, say it!"
"I think you'd better come and see for yourself, saiyett. I'm sorry."
Bewildered, still disbelieving him because she was un-able to take it in rather than because she thought he was lying, Maia followed the governor out of the room and then walked beside him down a stone-walled passage of which she noticed little or nothing. They came to a heavy, iron-bound door, and this he opened with a key at his belt. Beyond was a dimmer light, doors with grilles and an all-pervading, foul smell. A man appeared and spoke to Po-kada, jerking his thumb over his shoulder.
"U-Pokada, this Urtan woman--"
"Not now," answered Pokada, brushing him aside. "Ask Tortil or someone; I'm busy."
At the end of the passage they reached a row of eight or nine doors, all standing open. An old man was sweeping with a broom. As Pokada came up he moved aside and stood respectfully against the wall.
"Have they all gone?" asked Pokada.
"Yes, U-Pokada. Oh, yes, some time ago now: I'm just getting straight. That one who went for you, we had to break his--"
"All right, never mind," replied Pokada. "Go and get on with something else: I'll tell you when to come back. Well, go on!" he said, as the old man hesitated. He pointed to one of the open doors. "He's still there, is he?"
"Well, that's it, U-Pokada, yes. Only there hasn't been time, you see--"
"Never mind. Do as I say: go on up the other end."
In the doorway of the cell Pokada faced about, momentarily preventing Maia from entering.
"Saiyett, this isn't a pretty sight. All my men have had their hands full this morning, getting the queen's prisoners out to the temple. There's been no time to do more than take him down and lay him on the bed."
She answered nothing. She believed him now; her mouth was dry; she felt sick. A moment later he had stepped inside the cell and she followed him.
Tharrin's body was lying on a narrow plank bed in the further corner. The clothes were those she had seen the day before and he still looked, as he had then, tidy and clean. Yet in the horror of recognition she noticed nothing of this. His head was twisted to one side, the neck distorted and encircled by a livid ring of bruised flesh. In places blood, now darkly clotted, had oozed from the chafed skin. The tongue protruded and the eyes were wide and fixed. One or two flies were walking on the face, which had already assumed a rigid, waxen quality. One arm hung down, the backs of the clenched fingers touching the floor. As she looked away, moaning and holding her hands to her mouth, Maia noticed a length of rope, one end of which was knotted round a bar of the high window. The lower end was still tied in a running noose.
/> Half-fainting, she fell on her knees beside the bed, took the cold hand in her own and tried to lay it across the body; but the arm was stiff and resistant.
She began to cry, stroking his other hand and kissing the mutilated neck and bared shoulders. He was cool and smooth as the parchment and stiff as a frosted branch. As the reality came flooding more deeply into her she wept passionately, on and on because it was easier than stopping, because she was afraid to think what would happen when she stopped. She felt consumed with pity for poor, shiftless Tharnn and the ugly squalor of his end. As she remembered his arms around her in pleasure, his easy laughter and the game of the golden fish in the net, her grief burst out yet more intensely, prostrating her so that she laid her head on his chest, grasping his shoulders and crying as though to sob the breath out of her body.
At last Pokada, putting his hands under her armpits, pulled her, still weeping, to her feet. As he made to wipe her face with the cloth at his belt she flung away from him, setting her back against the wall of the cell and glaring at him from reddened eyes that still poured tears.
"You killed him! You killed him! I'll see you hang up-side-down for this!"
She was shouting hysterically, and he took a step towards her.
"Don't think you can kill me too! There's them as knows I'm here!"
"Saiyett, I give you my word I didn't kill him and nor did any of my men. He killed himself."
"But he knew I was coming! He knew I was coming today to get him out! He couldn't have killed himself!"
Pokada hesitated. After a few moments he said, "Saiyett, you'd better come back to my room. This is no place for us to talk."
"Talk? You think I want to talk to you? I want to see you dead and damned, you bastard, and I will, if it's the last thing I do!"