Maia (124 page)

"Oh, Miss Maia-Lord Randronoth-" She stopped.

"What about him? Come on, Ogma,
tell
me!"

"Well, I'd just lit the lamps, miss, and put them round the house like I always do, when he came in from the garden, dressed just in his breeches. He seemed-oh, ever so angry and put out, like. So I asked him were you coming in to supper now, but he never answered me: he just went up to your bedroom and shut the door. So then I didn't know what to do, miss, and I went down the garden to look for you, but I couldn't find you: just your clothes, like, laying on the ground. I didn't know what to think. I was frightened."

Ogma stopped as though she had no more to say. She was clearly still in a state of shock, ready to retreat into stupor from her own recollections. Maia shook her again.

"Ogma! You can't go to sleep now? Go on!"

Ogma rubbed her eyes with her knuckles. "When I came back-when I came back into the house, miss, the soldiers-the soldiers asked where you were and I said I didn't know. So then they said Lord Randronoth had told them to watch from the roof and wake him when the soldiers came-"

"The Lapanese soldiers, you mean? Count Seekron?"

"I don't know, miss. They didn't say-just 'the soldiers'. But then they said, 'We'll have a drink first. Bring us some wine in the parlor,' they said. Well, I knew that was wrong, Miss Maia, but I was frightened of them, you see, and I didn't know where you were or when you was coming back, like, so I did what they told me. I'm sorry, miss-"

"That doesn't matter now. Just go on."

"Well, I brought the wine, miss-only not the best, it wasn't: I thought for the likes of them-"

"Oh, never mind that! What
happened,
for Cran's sake?"

"Well, miss, they got to drinking, see, in the parlor, and then there come a knock, and I don't know why, I reckoned it might be you, though why you'd be knocking on your own door, but I wasn't really thinking, see-"

"So then?"

"Well, then I went to the door, miss, and Jarvil had opened the panel, see, to look who it was, and then he shut it and he turns round to me and he says, 'I don't know what to do,' he says. 'It's the Sacred Queen.' "

"The Sacred Queen!" cried Maia incredulously. "That's not possible! She's miles away, out on the plain, this very minute."

"No, miss: I looked out and it was the Sacred Queen there; her and a big, rough-looking man dressed like an officer, miss, and the queen was sort of dressed up like a soldier, too, and they was all covered with dust, like they'd come a long way; and the queen, she calls out, very angry-like, 'How much longer am I to be kept waiting?' she says. 'Are you going to open this door or do you want to hang upside-down?' she says. Oh, and when I looked out through the panel, the way she looked back at me, miss, it frightened me that much, you can't imagine-"

"Oh, yes, I can! Well, so what happened then?"

"I opened the door, miss, and-"

"You opened the door?"

"Yes, miss. Well, you weren't there to ask, see, and she was that angry, I didn't know what else to do-"

"Ogma, did you know that she hates me and wants to kill me? That she has done for weeks?"

"No, I didn't know, miss: I'd no idea. Leastways, not then I hadn't-"

Maia could scarcely believe her ears. Bitterly, she recalled the advice of Nennaunir and her other friends about engaging a shrewd, quick-witted woman to run her household.

"Well, go on."
' '

"Well, the moment I opened the door, miss, they both pushed past me and the big man put his hand over JarviPs mouth and stabbed him with his knife. And then the queen, she grabbed me and pulled my head back and she had a knife, too, and she says, 'You make a sound,' she says, 'and I'll cut your throat.' But then after a moment she said, 'Now, you tell me where Randronoth and Maia are,' and she was holding this knife against my throat, miss, and she said, 'Are they upstairs?' and I said, 'Yes! Yes!' Only I was that frightened I hardly knew what I was saying, you see,

"So then she said, 'You come with me and show me,' she said. She twisted my arm up behind me, miss, and she put her hand over my mouth and we went upstairs like that. And the big man, he'd drawn his sword and he went into the parlor. But I never heard no more of that, see, because when we got upstairs she never asked me which door nor nothing, she just threw open your bedroom door and there was Lord Randronoth laying on the bed, kind of half-awake, like. So then she gave me a great push against the wall as fair winded me, and she ran straight across and began stabbing at Lord Randronoth-oh, it was that dreadful, miss, I can't tell you no more, really I can't-"

"If I can hear it, you can tell it. Go on, Ogma!"

"Oh, the blood! The blood everywhere, miss, and the queen, she was-she was shouting and laughing, and she kept stabbing him again and again, and then she sort of rubbed all her hands and her arms and face, miss, with the blood, and then she sat down beside him on the bed and she very near cut his head off-I never seen-I never dreamt-laughing all the time-"

Ogma became hysterical. When at length Maia had been

able to restore her to something faintly resembling self-possession she went on,

"So then the queen come back to me, miss; only I was standing against the wall, you see, and I was screaming. And she says, 'Stop that,' she says, 'or I'll stop it for you.' And then the big man, he come up the stairs and his sword all covered with blood, and he says to her, 'I've finished; have you?' And she says, 'No, not yet. I'm only half-done,' she says.

"She was holding me by the hair, miss, and she says, 'Where's Maia?' And I said, 'I don't know.' So then she cut me with her knife and she says again, "Where's Maia?' and I says, 'I don't know!' So she was cutting me, and every time I said, 'I don't know! I don't know!' she cut me, miss, and she-well, it was like she'd been drinking or something o' that; she was-she was kind of staring and excited and-oh, I can't rightly tell. So then at last she said, 'Would you like me to put your nasty little eyes out?' she said: and I screamed out, 'I don't
know,
saiyett; I
swear
I don't know! I only know she's not here.'

"So then the big man, he says, 'Oh, come on, Fornis. It's obvious she doesn't know: we're only wasting time. You can kill Maia later: we've got to be going.'

"So then the queen said to me, 'Shall I kill
youf
No, you're not worth killing, are you? You'll be able to tell dear Maia all about it, won't you?' Or-or 'twas something like that, miss, as she said, but tell you the truth I don't just rightly remember. So then they went away-I remember that-but I don't remember anything else until I heard you downstairs. I must 'a just gone off, like."

While Ogma was speaking, Maia's sense of unreality and nightmare had intensified. She sat staring before her, trying to get her thoughts into frame. How
could
Fornis be in Bekla? Obviously she must be, yet it seemed impossible. Did Eud-Ecachlon know? And she herself-what was she to do now? Where could she go for safety?

At this moment she heard light, hurried footsteps coming through the porch and into the hall. For a few moments she sat petrified. Then Occula's voice called, Banzi! Banzi, are you here?"

Maia jumped up and ran out into the hall. Occula, dressed in a leather tunic and breeches, with a knife at her belt, was standing in the parlor doorway, staring at what lay

within. Hearing Maia, she drew the knife and spun round quickly, then ran forward and took her in her arms.

"Oh, banzi,thank the gods! I thought-oh, never mind-"

"What is it, Occula? What's happened?"

"Never mind that, either! There's no time to talk! Banzi, you've got to get out fast! Get out now! Understand? Now!"

"But where to, Occula?"

"There are people who'll help you. Listen to me carefully."

"But Occula-"

Ogma had come into the hall; a pitiful sight, crying and wringing her hands, her arms bound with strips of bloody toweling. Occula stamped her foot with impatience.

"I've no time, banzi, for Cran's bastin' sake! Your life's in deadly danger! Shut up and listen! Have you got any money?"

"Yes, plenty. But-"

"Then take it all with you. Now understand this. You're not to go by the Peacock Gate or you'll be killed, d'you see? Fornis has got men there. Go across, quick as you can, to the western walls. If you meet a sentry, bribe him. They're all old watchmen, anyway: there's very few soldiers left in the place, except Fornis's-"

"But is Fornis really here, Occula? Ogma said, but I can't hardly believe it-"

"Yes, banzi! Yes, she
is,
she's lookin' for you to
kill
you! After she'd killed Durakkon and beaten Kerith-a-Thrain, that woman and Han-Glat got here two hours ago, with five hundred men. They were goin' all last night and all today. And to see her you'd think she'd jus' got out of bed. I believe she could do it again if she wanted to."

"But-they let her through the gates?"

"Of
course
they did: who'd stop
her?
They'd let her through the gates of hell, wouldn' they? And they will one day, too, if I've got anythin' to do with it."

"But what's happened to the hostages, Occula? Has she killed them?"

"Bayub-Otal and the other officers she brought with her. They're down in the gaol. Now banzi, will you do as I say and get
out,
damn you?"

"Yes, I will. The western wall, you said. Then what?"

"Go along the wall and then scramble down onto the roof of a big stone warehouse you'll see below you, just

this side of the Tower of Sel-Dolad. Ask for a man called N'Kasit and say Cat Colonna and all that-you know. He'll help you to get out of Bekla. And now I'm goin' myself- fast! Bless you, my dearest banzi! Thanks for everything Kantza-Merada, what a bastin' farewell after all you and I've been through together! But we'll meet again one day, you see if we doan'!"

"But what about Ogma here? I can't leave her, Occula."

"O Cran! I'll take her with me and get her to Nennaunir or someone. Doan' worry, Fornis woan' bother lookin' for her, once she finds you're gone."

And with this Occula grabbed Ogma by the wrist and dragged her out of the house.

Left alone, Maia was overcome by a terrible seizure of horror-the mental paralysis of extreme fear and distress. Crouching in the privy as her bowels emptied in an agonizing flux, she gasped and retched, while the sweat poured off her. At length her head cleared, and as she began to recover herself the full force of Occula's warning came to her. She had to fly for her life-now, instantly.

But there could be no avoiding what had to be done by way of preparation. Trembling, she returned to the bedroom and there, averting her eyes from the bed, put on those same traveling clothes in which she had returned from Rallur. The jerkin had capacious inside pockets, and into these she stuffed not only all that was left of the money Seekron had given her-a good twenty thousand meld and more-but also her diamonds. Over the jerkin she buckled a belt with a sheathed knife. Half-way down the stairs, it occurred to her that she ought to take a cloak. Although to return to the bedroom yet again was almost more than she could bring herself to do, once there she not only took care to pick out her stoutest and most serviceable cloak, but before leaving spread another over poor Randronoth's face and chest. Back downstairs, on a final impulse she went quickly into the parlor, snatched up the cabinet of fishes and thrust it into one of her pockets. Then she ran through the hall, past Jarvil's body and out into the darkness.

To cross the upper city to the western walls took about twenty minutes. By now Occula's words-and Occula's fear-had sunk in to such an extent that she was afraid to go by the main thoroughfare leading past the barracks towards the Leopard Hill. The byways nearer the Peacock Wall would take her closer to the queen's house, yet nevertheless she felt that this would involve less chance of being molested or recognized.

The confusion and clamor throughout the city had increased and at the gates of many houses armed servants were standing on guard; yet none challenged or tried to stop her. Once she hid behind a clump of trees while six or seven ruffian-looking men with cudgels approached and passed, talking together in some language unknown to her. Yet otherwise she met with no adventures, and went so quickly that she was surprised when at length she saw the western walls looming in front of her, a dark, level line in the moonlight.

Nor, surprisingly, did anyone try to stop her climbing the stone stairs where the road ended below the walls. She stepped out onto the height of the ramparts and looked about her. To her right, the lower city fell away to the Gate of Lilies and the open square of the Slave Market. There, too, she could hear tumult and see an unusual number of lights-both lamps in the houses and torches in the streets. There was a light in the high, square crow's nest of the Tower of Sel-Dolad, not three hundred yards away. She wondered who could be up there at this hour: watchmen, no doubt, looking out for the approach of For-nis's army from the west.

Turning in the direction of the tower, she began walking along the ramparts. She was obliged to go slowly, for the paving was uneven and once or twice she stumbled over projecting stones. Ahead, where the Peacock Wall joined the ramparts, she could see a sentry gazing out over the plain below. As she approached he turned, levelled his spear and challenged her.

She stood still, looking at his face under the leather helmet. Just as Occula had said, this was an oldish man for a soldier-forty-five at least-with a grizzled beard, bushy eyebrows and lips sunk in upon a toothless mouth

above a sharp-nosed, canny face. He did not look like a Beklan. She smiled at him, throwing back her hood.

"Can you let me pass?" she asked.

He shook his head. "No one's to pass. You didn't ought to be up here at all: you must know that."

This man, if she was any judge, was from Kabin. Probably Eud-Ecachlon had held a few back from the draft. Anyway, he had not recognized her and clearly didn't know who she was.

"No one's seen me; only you. You can't get into trouble letting me pass." She paused. "I've got money."

He shook his head again. "You shouldn't offer money: you just go back, now, go on."

"Ah, but all depends how much, doesn't it? I've no time to bargain, dad. I'll give you all I've got-a thousand meld."

In the moonlight she saw the surprise on his cunning, peasant face. That had got to him all right.

"A thousand meld? Don't try it on, my girl: you haven't got that much."

"Oh, yes, I have. Only you be straight with me, just I'm in danger: I've got enemies and I've got to get out quick. You know as well as I do everything's upside-down. No one'll ever get to hear."

Far away, on the other side of the city, a sudden clamor broke out. They both started, turning to stare in the direction of the Blue Gate a full mile away below.

"What's that?" said the man. "That's never the Pal-teshis, comin' that way!"

"No," answered Maia. "The Lapanese have got here first."

"The Lapanese?" He stared at her.

"Those will be Lord Randronoth's men. Anything can happen now. If I were you, I'd take this thousand meld and make myself scarce. Either that or go and join them, dad."

He paused, his crafty eyes sizing her up-her good clothes, her beautiful face, her soft, well-kept hands. Even at such a time as this he must be bargaining: to the likes of him it was second nature.

"Well, but it's a big risk, now, missie, isn't it?" He shook his head. "Couldn't take a risk like that for less than fifteen hundred."

"All right," she said. "Only for Cran's sake leave it at

that. Here comes your tryzatt, I reckon, to see what that noise is about."

Indeed, they could both see the silhouetted figure of the tryzatt, about two hundred yards off along the rampart, staring eastwards. Maia offered the money, which the man at once grabbed and stuffed into his jerkin.

"Go on, then, missie, quick, 'fore he sees you."

Maia darted past him and was gone.

She had run hardly any distance, however, before she saw below her what could only be the warehouse of which Occula had spoken: a flat-roofed, sprawling place, too big for any private dwelling. There was a dim- light in one window, but no other sign that anyone was there.

She looked round for a way down, but as far ahead as she could see there were no steps. The drop from the walls to the abutting roof was all of nineteen or twenty feet: she could never hang and let go without risking injury.

She hurried back. The sentry was still where she had left him and the tryzatt had come no nearer.

She called in a low voice, "Sentry!"

Agonizingly slowly, he came up to her. "What you want now, then?"

"I got to get down onto that roof; only it's too far to jump. I could just about do it holding onto your spear, though."

She had expected him to ask for more money, but to her surprise, after a moment he said, "All right, then; only quick," and went back with her along the wall. Above the warehouse roof he lay down, holding his spear vertically over the edge of the wall to the full extent of his arms.

"You'd best be quick, missie: only I can't hold your weight more 'n a few seconds, see?"

It was still a long enough drop to frighten her, but once she was at the end of the spear, arms outstretched, there was no help for it. She let go and fell about eight feet onto the roof.

She landed with a harsh jolt, and doubled up painfully on her knees. She had scratched one arm and torn her cloak. She looked upward, but the soldier had gone. Scrambling to her feet, she leant for a minute or two against the wall, then began to limp across the roof. Somewhere there must be a way down.

After searching in the dark for some minutes, during which she could hear the uproar on the other side of the

city increasing, she came upon a flight of steps, ramshackle and with no outer handrail, and started nervously groping her way down, one foot and then the other, leaning inward against the wall. As she neared the bottom a man's voice from the shadows below said sharply, "Who's that? Stay where y'are!"

This pulled her together. Maia-with good reason-possessed confidence in her ability to conciliate strangers. Besides, Occula had told her whom to ask for.

"I'm looking for N'Kasit," she answered.

After a few moments the voice said, "A woman, eh? Are y'alone?"

"Yes."

"Who are you? What were you doing on the roof?"

"I've come along the ramparts from the upper city. I'll explain everything if only you'll take me to N'Kasit."

"He expecting you?"

"I was told to come here and ask for him," answered Maia.

At this moment there was the sound of a door opening, and a flicker of light revealed, just ahead of her, the black, vertical line of the corner of the building. Another voice said, "What is it, Malendik?"

"A woman, sir, asking for you."

"What's your name?" said the other voice.

"Maia Serrelinda."

There was a whistle of surprise. "The Serrelinda? Are you telling the truth?"

This annoyed Maia. It was months since anyone had spoken to her like this and she had become unused to it.

"Yes, I damn' well am; and what's more, I'm getting tired of standing up here. If you're N'Kasit-"

"You'd better come down."

Maia fumbled and clutched her way down the last of the steps. Two figures, one disconcertingly huge, the other- who was holding the lamp-small, compact and intent, stood outlined in an open doorway.

"Come on in quick!" said the smaller figure, himself turning to lead the way.

Maia, following them through the door, found herself in an immense, cavernous, echoing building, everywhere divided by walls and partitions. There was an all-pervading smell of leather and hides, together with a spur, acrid odor-perhaps some sort of fluid used in treating them.

The lamp, bobbing on ahead of her, threw great, jumping shadows into the invisible roof.

The men, without looking round to see whether she was following or not, were walking briskly along a sanded pathway running between the bays. She had almost to run to avoid losing them. At length they turned aside into a kind of shed constructed against one corner of the warehouse; a lean-to hut, with two wooden walls, two stone walls and a ceiling of sagging planks laid atop. There was a rickety table, on which were some tallies, a few papers and an abacus; two or three benches, some clay bowls and cups on a shelf and in one corner a narrow, untidy bed on which a big, square-headed tabby cat lay dozing. This was evidently both the warehouse office and the cubby-hole of anyone who had to sleep on the premises.

As she followed them in, the two stood regarding Maia. The big man, she could now perceive, was obviously some sort of workman or hired hand of the other. He was not only tall but plainly immensely strong, with shoulders and arms that looked as though they could lift an ox. He was dressed in sacking and his hands were rough and dirt-ingrained-the hands of a laborer.

N'Kasit himself looked about thirty-five; quick-glancing, yet with a shrewd, prudent, unexcitable air; a typical merchant, she thought, both circumspect and enterpising. She could imagine everything in his life, including his marriage, his friends and his amusements, being subordinated to an over-riding ambition for gain: yet not only, perhaps, material gain; this was a man who might well be aspiring to social-even political-advancement as well. He seemed a younger, more mundane version of Sarget, and had no doubt a similar, though as yet unfulfilled, desire to reach the upper city. Could
he,
of all people, really be a secret agent of the heldril? If so, he had certainly contrived a most convincing front. Anyone would have thought him a mercantile Leopard of Leopards.

"You'd better sit down, saiyett," he said, pushing forward an old chair with two dirty cushions-the only one in the room. "I'm sure it's not what you're used to, but come to that, we don't often have visitors like you, either."

She sat down wearily and gratefully. And good cause she had to be weary, she thought. Yet for the first time that day she felt secure: these men, she felt intuitively, were not going to betray or harm her.

N'Kasit poured wine. It was rough, bitter stuff, but she was glad of it and drank off her cup almost at once. Having refilled it, he offered her bread and cheese, but this she declined. All she wanted now was to get on. How quickly could she reach the gaol? If she was to save Zenka and Anda-Nokomis every minute might be vital.

"I suppose you need quite a few cats in a place like this," she said, nodding towards the tabby on the bed. "I'm fond of cats myself; I've got a beauty at home. She's called Colonna, like the one in the old story, you know."

"I remember," answered N'Kasit, "but I always thought the one in the story was called Bakris."

"Will you help me to get out of Bekla, then?" she asked him, smiling.

He did not smile back, however, only continuing to regard her steadily and gravely, as he might when considering some business proposition and taking care to display no reaction. She glanced across at Malendik, but he, his wine-cup buried in his great hands, was gazing down impassively at the dusty floor.

"I think it's rather a case of whether
you'll
be of any help to
us,
isn't it?" said N'Kasit at length. "They're going to try tonight. With all this confusion, they'll never have a better opportunity. Where do
you
come in?"

She shook her head. "I don't understand."

"Didn't Occula tell you? It was Occula sent you, I sup-pose?"

"She hadn't time to tell me anything, U-N'Kasit, except as my life was in danger from Fornis and I must get out at once."

She went on to speak of Randronoth, of the death of Milvushina, the murders at her house and finally of Oc-cula's frantic warning.

"Fornis is in Bekla
now?"
he asked, when she had finished.

"Yes. I couldn't hardly believe it myself."

He sat frowning. "I'm sorry for all you've been through," he said at length, though in a level, unemotional tone. "Poor young Milvushina! That's a great pity. I remember her father well; he came to see me once at Kabin. He was the one who suggested I should come here, and then Er-ketlis sent me the money to do it. I've never met
him,
though-not yet. It was one of his agents, a man called Tharrin, who brought the money. He's dead now; but he

never told them anything. He must have been a brave man." He paused. "What do you mean to do, then-get to Santil in Yelda? Is that your idea?"

"I don't know yet," she said. "I haven't thought."

"Occula didn't tell you about the others?"

"Well, there wasn't time, see? She just said to come here and you'd help me." She looked up at him appeal-ingly. "You will, won't you?"

But the level-headed man of business still seemed concerned less with the beautiful Serrelinda than with the problem she presented.

"If things were normal and you'd been able to leave the city publicly-the Serrelinda on a trip to Tonilda or something like that-we might have been able to send them with you disguised as servants, but as it is I can't see that you're any use to us at all. In fact, with Fornis after your blood you're a liability, aren't you?"

"I don't reckon Occula was thinking that way. She just wanted to save me."

"Do you want to hide here for a day or two, then, to see which way things go? I'd risk that much; for Occula I would."

She shook her head decisively. "No, I must get out tonight, whatever happens. Soon as possible, too, U-N'Kasit. There's-well-important reasons why I can't afford to wait."