The truth was that sixteen-year-old Maia had no wish for an older, more experienced woman to tell her her own business. Club-footed, dull, dependent Ogma suited her very well and she had no intention of looking for someone like Sessendris, who had advised her against trying to help Tharrin and been proved abundantly right.
"Brero," said Maia, "d'you reckon you might be able to find me a particular man in the lower city, and get him up here without anyone taking any particular notice of it?"
It was two days after Nennaunir's visit. Maia, having taken what was for her a considerable time to reflect on an idea which had first occurred to her before the shearna had left, was now (with a certain amount of inward trepidation) putting it into effect.
Brero frowned, scratched his head and seemed about to reply, but Maia forestalled him.
"I'll tell you as much as I know. His name's Sednil and I suppose he's about twenty-one." She went on to describe him as she remembered him. "He's in lodgings somewhere near the Tower of the Orphans. He's been out and about looking for work, so likely he's been talking to people round there who'll remember him. And he's a branded man, Brero: crossed spears on the back of his hand. But he's finished his sentence: he's free now."
"A branded man, saiyett?"
"Well, but he's got a release token. Anyway, he hadn't really done anything."
"Oh, none the more for that, saiyett: that's nothing to me. Only you said you didn't want anyone taking any notice, and it won't b& possible to take a branded man through the Peacock Gate without the guards wanting to know who he is and where he's going."
"And yet I've got to see this man, Brero; and secretly, too. I've had instructions."
"I understand, saiyett." It did not surprise Brero to learn that Maia had had instructions. After all, she had had instructions to cross the Valderra, hadn't she?
"Well, for a start let's see whether you can find him, Brero. And if you do, don't say anything about me, understand? Give him this box--there's some money in it-- and say it's an advance for a special job of work as'll be well-paid, and that if he's interested there's someone as wants to talk to him about it."
"He wouldn't take the money, saiyett," said Brero, "but he says he's ready to talk about the work."
It had taken him less than a day to find Sednil. The area along the banks of the Monju brook, between the two great thoroughfares of the Sheldad and the Kharjiz, was a comparatively quiet and respectable district; quite un-like, for example, the teeming alleys and warrens further west, between the Khalkoornil and the Tower of Sel-Do-lad; and inquiries among its taverns and lodging-houses had SQon put Brero on the right track.
"How did he act, like?" asked Maia. "Did he seem surprised?"
"Well, more kind of suspicious, saiyett, really," replied Brero. "First of all he made me swear black and blue that 'twasn't anything to do with the Sacred Queen. He seemed real frightened of her."
"Isn't everyone?" asked Maia.
"Well, yes, I suppose so, saiyett, in a manner of speaking. Only it didn't seem to make sense, like, her having gone to Paltesh, as everyone knows, and why should he suppose it might have anything to do with her?"
"Oh, he's got his reasons, Brero," said Maia. "Well, now what?"
"Well, what I was thinking, saiyett, if you're agreeable, we might make a little arrangement like this, seeing as you have to see the man secretly. I'll go down tomorrow night after sunset, and meet him by arrangement. We'll wait together in a jekzha wherever it suits you: perhaps the Monju bridge in the Sheldad would be a convenient place. Then I'd suggest that you follow in another jekzha about half an hour later--veiled, of course, saiyett. When you come to the bridge, you simply get into the other jekzha with this young man. He needn't show himself at all. Then the two of you can ride up and down the Sheldad--or anywhere---while you talk as long as you want. I'll keep your jekzha by the bridge, and as soon as you're ready you can simply come back, change over again and go home. It just struck me that that might be better than meeting in a house: I mean, in a house there's always bound to be someone who sees you come and go, isn't there?"
"Brero, they ought to make you a tryzatt, that they ought."
"Well, one day, perhaps, saiyett. But I hope you won't go recommending me, for I'm in no hurry to change this job just now. Why, they might send me to Chalcon or the Valderra, mightn't they?"
' "Oh, great Gran!" said Sednil. "It's you!"
Maia laughed and lowered her veil again. "Who'd you reckon it'd be, then?" He was looking far better, she thought, than ever he had in the temple. Indeed, she would hardly have known him. Darkness had almost fallen, but there was enough light from the lamps and flaring torches of the shops and booths still open along the Sheldad to show her a spruce, alert-looking young man with a trim, black beard, dressed in a new veltron and leather breeches. More striking than his actual appearance, however, was the entire alteration in his manner, and the figure he cut in her female eyes. Before, it had always seemed to her as though his whole demeanor--his facial expression, his talk, his gait, his gestures--had been as it were dyed, soaked through and through with resentment and dejection, so that it had been impossible for him to speak or act without expressing these things, as involuntarily as a priest expressed solemnity or a clown the absurd. In short, he had been the very embodiment of a convicted prisoner. Now, all this--as near as she could perceive in the flickering half-light and street hubbub through which they were moving on--had disappeared, or very nearly so. She had always been puzzled by Nennaunir's devotion to Sednil. Now, she thought, she was seeing something like the young man whom Nennaunir had first known; before he, like herself, had fallen victim to the cruelty of the Sacred Queen.
"Well, it just never entered my head it'd be you," he answered. "But I suppose that was the idea, was it? Nowadays you have to be careful going about, I know that. I hope you've come so that I can thank you. Nan's told me what you did. The governor told me, too, come to that, when he gave me my release token. He gave me a letter for you as well: I meant to give it to Nan, but I forgot. It's back in my room now."
"You can give it to Brero later."
Now he set about thanking her in earnest, and that with an articulate warmth and fervor of which she would never have believed him capable. His sincerity went to her heart. Just as in the temple, on that morning of the festival when they had first met, she felt him to be someone like herself, someone whom she understood. Palteshi he might be, but she could tell without asking that he, like herself, had been born in a hut and known what it was to be glad of a lump of black bread. She was really delighted, now, to think that she had helped him; and relieved, too (for of this she had been doubtful before), to feel convinced that he was to be trusted with her secret.
"--And anything I can ever do for you--" he was saying, when she put a hand on his arm and, again raising her veil, bent forward and kissed his cheek.
"There is: but it's a very big thing, and I don't want you to think as you've got to do it because you're under any obligation to me. It's not a favor, it's a job. It might be dangerous and I'm paying according. There's no one else I can possibly entrust with it, Sednil. If you don't want to take it on, I shall have to leave it."
Now he was once again the old, canny, worldly-wise Sednil.
"You'd better tell me a bit more about it, Maia."
Suddenly a girl flower-seller jumped up onto the step of the jekzha, jolting it and causing the jekzha-man to turn and swear at her.
"Lovely roses, saiyett! Lilies, look, sir, and this purple cresset, real cheap!"
She held up her basket so that the sweet, fresh scents filled the dark interior of the jekzha. Behind her array of blooms she herself looked pinched and tired. Maia slipped a five-meld piece into her hand.
"I'll take this rose. Keep the money, dear. Good-night, now."
The girl was beginning, "Oh, bless you, saiyett--" when the jekzha-man slapped her arm. She rounded on him, cursing, dropped off the step and was gone into the dusky commotion o
f the Sheldad.
Maia smelt the rose, tapping it pensively against her upper lip.
"Sednil, what would you say if I was to tell you--if I told you that I'm--in love--with a Katrian--an officer in Karnat's army?"
He did not laugh, or say "What?" or even come out with any sort of oath or exclamation. She could see that he believed her at once and took her seriously. For a little while he was silent; and she was silent too, waiting for him to answer her. And answer he did.
" If you said that to me, the first thing I'd ask is 'Where is he now?' "
"I don't know. And that's what it's all about, Sednil."
Slowly, and more than once with a catch in her voice, she told him how King Karnat had received her like a princess at Melvda-Rain; of the supper that evening, and of how Zen-Kurel had come to her house. As she went on to speak of their love and his promises, she began to weep in good earnest; yet he made no attempt to calm or pacify her, only waiting and listening as she faltered out the end of her tale--Zen-Kurel's disclosure to her of the king's plan, the night-march of the army to the river and her own desperate resolve.
When she had finished he remained silent while she dried her eyes and composed herself. At length he said, "But I don't understand. If you loved this fellow--and you say you still love him--why ever did you risk your life to make sure Karnat's plan failed?"
She was astonished. "Why, Sednil, to save them all; to stop the bloodshed, of course! Dear Lespa, if only you'd seen what I've seen! Listen, and I'll tell you--if I can."
She told him of the night-crossing of the Valderra ford, of the slaughter of the patrol and how she had knelt over the dying Sphelthon. Then, for good measure, she added what the farm-girl Gehta had said to her about her terror of invasion; and lastly she spoke of the Tonildan detachment downstream of Rallur, which the Terekenalt army would have destroyed to a man.
"So if it hadn't 'a been for me, there'd have been another three hundred Tonildan fellows like that poor boy Sphelthon, and Cran only knows how many more besides. You must see that, Sednil, surely?"
"Oh, I can see it all right," said he, "and I admire you as much as anyone in the city. But what d'you suppose he thinks--your Katrian officer chap?"
"What he thinks?"
"Well, people in Terekenalt know what you did, same as people in Bekla. But on top of that, there's one thing your Zen-Kurel will know which no one else knows--that's if he's still alive and if he's had the sense to keep quiet. He knows how you learned about the plan, doesn't he?"
For the first time--for it must be remembered that in addition to her youth and immaturity she had hitherto been entirely land-locked, as it were, in her own memories and dreams of Zen-Kurel, and had never discussed her love with anyone--there began to dawn upon the ingenuous Maia some idea oi what Zen-Kurel must have felt upon hearing how the garrison at Rallur had been warned in time. Like a child to whom an adult points out something serious and unwelcome which till now has lain beyond the restricted field of personal experience, she sensed, vaguely yet dismally, that this was a matter she was not going to be able to disregard or ignore; and began by trying to do just that.
"I don't reckon he'd be angry--not if I could talk to him, like--explain--tell him the rights of it--how I felt an' that."
"Don'tyou?"
"I would 'a done just that--told him how I felt--if only there'd been time: I would have! Fact I was starting to, only soon as he heard that trumpet blowing for the muster he was up and off--oh! that was so dreadful, Sednil! When I realized he was going to the fighting--" Her tears began to fall again.
"And you think he'd have listened to you, do you?"
"He loves me. We could have gone away together: we could have gone to his father's in Katria--"
"And him one of the king's personal aides? I thought you had more sense, Maia."
"Are you jealous of him? Is that it?" She knew this was nothing to the purpose, but anything was better than accepting the truth.
"Well, I might be, but that's not the point. What I'm asking is, do you really suppose this fellow feels the same about you--that is, if he's still alive--knowing what he can't help knowing now? 'Cos if I was him I'd want to cut you up into fifty bits, that's what."
As a last resort the Serrelinda fell back on her dignity. "Since you're so keen on what's the point, that's not the point either, U-Sednil. The only point as far as you're concerned is that I happen to want to know where Zen-Kurel is now. That's the job I'm talking about; just that and nothing more. He's an enemy of Bekla, fighting for King Karnat, so I've got to be careful how I go about it, haven't I? No one's to know. I'm offering you four thousand meld to go and find out for me, and that's what I came here to say tonight. Never mind what you think Zen-Kurel thinks: that's none of your business. Do you want the job or not?"
"Four thousand meld?" He was clearly startled.
The jekzha had gone the length of the Sheldad and they had now reached the place, not far from the western clock tower, where it broke up into the narrower streets and lanes of the poorer quarter of the city. The jekzha-man stopped and turned his head.
"Where to now, sir?"
Maia gave him fifteen meld. "Just turn round and go back. You needn't hurry."
He shrugged his shoulders, pocketed the money and made the turn, pushing his way through a crowd of roisterers outside a tavern. As they got clear, a snatch of tipsy song came up from behind.
"--So then she jumped right out of Karnat's winder: No one could hinder The Serrelinda--"
Maia could not suppress a chuckle. "Never heard that one before."
"Nor me. They don't tell you, then, when they make them up?"
"Just as well they don't, some of 'em."
At least it had blown away the ill-feeling between them.
"I'm sorry, Maia: you're the last person in the world I'd want to fall out with. Yes, I will do this for you--for you, and because I need the money. Four thousand meld! D'you really mean it? Cran, I could start a business with that!"
"That's if you come back, Sednil. Trying to get information about a Katrian--you'll be running a risk, you know. You can get to Urtah all right, I suppose?"
"That's no trouble: I could be looking for work, couldn't I? But how about the money?" asked Sednil.
"When d'you--"
"Half now and half when jou get back. That's fair, isn't it? I brought it with me: two thousand. Here it is."
"You trust me that much, then? Two thousand--I could be off with that, you know."
"No, I trust you."
"It's just that I've got out of the way of being trusted, that's all." He paused. Then, "Yes, Maia, of course I'm jealous of this Katrian."
"Nennaunir loves you."
It was his rum to flare up. "Yes, so much that she wouldn't even speak up for me about that basting ring! She could have saved me--"
"Sednil, you couldn't expect it; you really couldn't. She would have, if the queen had sentenced you to the mines or to hang. She did all she could to get you out, and what's more she's succeeded--"
"You succeeded."
"She still loves you, Sednil. She's told me as much. And now she's rich and successful you'd be a fool to leave her."
"Well, that's my business. But I shan't tell Nan about this: I'll simply teU her that I'm leaving Bekla to look for work, and I'll be back as soon as I can."
"You could go so far as to tell her you're going to Urtah. See, it's only that I don't like deceiving Nan any more 'n what we have to. She's been a good friend to me."
"I shall go to Dan first, Maia. For one thing, it's less likely to attract attention than if I were to go straight to Urtah from Bekla; but besides that, my old mother's still living in Dari--or she was--and I'd like to give her some of this money. And won't she be happy and proud to see her son with a branded hand and release token?" added Sednil bitterly.
"But can't you tell her as 'twasn't none of your fault?" said Maia. "She ought to believe you--her own son."
"Oh, yes, and then s
he can just explain to all the neighbors, can't she, and to everyone else who gets to hear? Poor old woman, she'll be glad of the money, though. But I won't waste any time in getting on with your job, Maia, I promise. I don't see why I shouldn't be back in under two months. You say this Zen-Kurel was brought up in Dari: well, I could have known him when we were banzis, couldn't I, and be wondering what had become of him? That's where I'll start asking around, and then perhaps move up into Urtah, or even cross the Zhairgen. I may not have to go to Suba at all."
"How will you let me know when you get back?"
"I'll watch out for your lame girl in the market and tell her."
"Here we are back at the bridge. Good luck, Sednil, and I'll pray for you. Don't forget to give Randronoth's letter to Brero, will you?"
69: AN UNEXPECTED VISIT
Randronoth's letter--which bore the Canathron seal of Lapan--was short and so simple that Maia was able-- though with effort and a certain amount of inference here and there--to read it for herself. That, she supposed, was probably what he had intended.
"Beloved, beautiful Maia,
"I think of you always. I long to be with you again. I am sending you a present. Entertain and hear the messenger. He is my friend. He will tell you--" (The next bit was beyond her. Well, she thought rather impatiently, if he's going to tell me, don't matter, do it?) "He is to be trusted. Sednil is free, as you asked.
Your devoted lover, Randronoth."
She put it aside without reflection. The memory of the Randronoth episode was most bitter to her, not through any fault of his, but on account of its horrible and humiliating outcome. She simply wanted to forget it, and to forget him too. She felt nothing for him, and his feeling for her both alarmed and vexed her. Like most outstandingly beautiful girls, Maia had no objection to being desired where she did not desire--it was unavoidable, any-way--provided the admirer's behavior remained within reasonable bounds. But for a man in a high position to be virtually unbalanced--what she herself called "touched"--on her account was worrying, simply because one never knew whether he might not do something embarrassing or even downright dangerous. The present, being from a provincial governor, would have to be accepted, of course. She only hoped it wouldn't prove to be one which would make it more difficult to refuse him what he wanted--for to refuse him she was determined.