Maia (153 page)

"And with that, and without a moment's hesitation, she went over the brink of the ravine, and I went after her.

"Now I'll try to explain the way of it, banzi, as best I can. First, at the top, there were the trees. The side wasn' absolutely sheer-not to begin with: it was a steep, earthy slope, with the trees growin' out of it-small oaks and thorn and that sort of thing. They were growin' outwards from the face, so you could catch hold and slither down between them from one to another.

"We pushed through the first branches and leaves, and even there it felt uncanny and threatenin'. Those leaves seemed to be whisperin' all round us, and I had a horrible feelin' that they knew we'd come; or that somethin' did, anyway. The upper leaves were very thick and green- they had the air and light, of course-but then, almost at once, only a few feet down, they got fewer and yellower, as if they were sick or in prison. And then we were down among the trunks, with their gnarled, exposed roots, and the earth and stones. If you'd let go of whatever you were holdin' on to, you'd just have gone slidin' straight down.

"As my eyes began to get used to the light I made myself look down, and I could see that where the trees ended-

they got fewer, you see, and more spindly, until there weren' any more-there was a kind of ledge-a shelf, not regular but more or less level; I suppose it might have been four or five feet wide, but only here and there. Fornis had got down there already, quick as a cat, and she was waitin' for me. I reached it about twenty yards away from where she was standin'. I stopped a moment to get my breath and then I went along towards her.

"I didn' say anythin': it wasn' time yet. I looked up and there was green light above, comin' through the leaves; it wasn' like the light in an honest, decent wood, but sort of thick and waverin', like light under deep water; and it was all criss-crossed by the branches, like the bars of a cage. We were in a cage-a cage with a ceilin' but no floor.

"Before I reached her I went to the edge and peered over. It was sheer from then on. Only there were projections here and there-spurs of rock and so on. It would be just possible to climb down, if you were crazy. What you'd be goin' down into was nothin'; empty darkness. And the goddess was tellin' me I had to go. There was only me, all alone, against the strength and power of that wicked woman. Oh, banzi-"

Occula was clasped in Maia's arms, shuddering and moaning like a child woken from nightmare. Maia stroked and kissed her, murmuring reassurance, and after a little the black girl went on.

"Fornis was standin' with her hands on her hips, smilin' and lookin' sort of exultant. You could see she was pleased with herself. She was always excited by danger-any sort of demandin' exploit. As I stepped back from the edge she called out 'Occula-'

"And then even she was frozen with horror, and worse than horror: for the moment she spoke it was as if the whole place had been set on fire, leapin' with voices like flames. 'Occula! Occula! Occula!' They weren' ordinary, decent echoes. In fact I doan' believe now that they were echoes at all; and if you'd heard them you'd feel the same. They were
voices
-of creatures, of bein's about whom we know nothin', through the mercy of the gods. How can I call them evil or mad, when words like goodness and sanity had no more meanin' in that place than they have out beyond the furthest star? Hell isn' people torturin' you, banzi: I know that now. Hell's nothin': hell's not-things takin' the place of things. Silence is a natural thing, and

these voices were neither speech nor silence, and that's the only way I can put it. Just to hear them was an agony, and I mean a
real
agony, like burnin'. They seemed to tear through your head. I fell down, and for all the sense I had left I might have gone over the edge; but I didn'.

"Then Fornis put her hand on my shoulder and shook me; and she stooped and whispered in my ear, not to wake those voices again. She said, 'Do you want to go on, or are you afraid?'

"And still it wasn' time. I wondered how much more the goddess expected I could suffer. I thought, 'Does she want her weapon to break in her hand?'!

"I nodded, but Fornis seemed to be hesitatin', so I went to the edge again and looked down. I had to get her to go on: that was my first task. This time I was tryin' to pick a way of goin' down from one handhold and foothold to the next. As soon as I'd seen what I thought was a possible way-if you could call it that-I jus' caught her eye and then let myself over without a word.

"She was followin' me now: she had to if she was comin', for there was no other way down-not in either direction, as far as you could see. I knew the goddess had put it into her heart that she wasn' goin' to be beaten by me, so it was just a question of whether I could survive long enough. Banzi, I can'-I honestly can' describe to you the terror of climbin' down into that place. It was shiverin'ly cold, and not wet but very smooth, so that everythin' I touched felt slippery-dry and slippery, like a snake's skin. Once a stone I was holdin' pulled out of the sheer face, and I just managed to grab another in time. I needed bare feet. I kicked off my sandals and they fell away, but there was no sound from below to show when they'd reached bottom. And I'll tell you somethin' else. I'd cut my hand, and it was bleedin' green. That's the truth.

"As long as I doan' fall, I thought, it doesn' matter how far down we go: I shall never come back anyway. I was out of my mind by this time, and I felt full of a sort of mad elation, as if I'd drunk a flask full of djebbah. That's why I doan' remember any more. I can' even guess how deep we went: it may not really have been very far-I doan' know. It felt like a mile.

"At last, in a place where you could just see-only there was nothin' to be seen now; not even earth; only the rock- I came to a second ledge, a bit longer than the height of

a man and only a foot or two wide. And there, in the rock face, I caught sight of an almost regular, zig-zag crack that looked a bit like the symbol for 'Zai.' So I knew this was the place, and I stood still and waited for Fornis.

"She was down about a minute later. One of her forearms was bleedin' green, too; and her hair was green. She'd been changed, ready for what I had to do. I gave her my hand onto the ledge and we stood there together while she got her breath. Then she whispered, 'I think this is far enough, doan' you?'

" 'Yes, this is far enough,' I answered.

"I pulled her round by the arm to face me and looked into her eyes, and I knew she couldn' look away. But still she wasn' afraid-not yet.

" 'Why are you lookin' at me like that?' she asked. She was angry.

" 'I want to ask you a question,' I said. 'Where did you get the emeralds in the Sacred Queen's crown?'

"She didn' answer, but I could see now that she knew. My question had fallen into her heart as my sandals had dropped into the abyss.

" 'Do you remember the black jewel-merchant who came to Bekla across the Harridan?' I asked her.

"Now
she was frightened all right! You wouldn' think it possible, would you? Water could flow uphill: Queen Fornis was frightened.

" 'Do you remember he had a little girl?' I said. 'No, look at me! Do you remember?'

"She shrank back, but I had her by the arm. 'You? I gave orders for your death!' she cried. She was past re-memberin' the voices, and the whole frightful place rocked and rang in the dark, 'Death! Death! Death!'

"But I'd been changed, too. Those voices were subject to the goddess, and now she'd possessed me entirely. I'd become like a rock in a flood.

"I was still lookin' steadily into Fornis's eyes. As I raised my right hand she did the same, and we stood opposite each other like that. I stepped forward and drew her knife from the sheath at her belt and she never moved. I offered it to her hilt first, and she stretched out her arm and took it. Yes, she took the knife from me, banzi, jus' like Ka-Roton that night in Kembri's hall; and then, as we still stood face to face, she turned the point round and drove it straight into her own heart.

"The green blood came spurtin' out, and as she sank down on her knees I pointed over the edge. 'Your little boys are waitin',' I said, 'and Durakkon, your friend!' And all the voices howled and clucked and cackled, 'Friend- end-end-end!'

"And at that she fell all along, with her head and shoulders across the edge, and I put my foot against her body and pushed, and she screamed and went over, with her own knife still stickin' in her breast. And then I fainted, because the goddess had left me alone with the voices and the screamin'.

"I must have lain unconscious a long time: I doan' know how long. When I came to myself I was lyin' on the ledge with my arms soaked in Fornis's blood. It was only then I realized how narrow it was. It was barely wide enough to lie down. I doan' know why I hadn' fallen.

"The goddess was gone: I was by myself in the dark. I felt cold, and very hungry and thirsty.

"The reason I can' tell how long I was unconscious is because I doan' even know how long it took me to climb back. That was almost as hard as goin' down had been. I'd finished what the goddess required and she had no more use for me. If I could manage to get myself back, that was my business. She wasn' concerned one way or the other; and I certainly hadn' the gall to pray to her to save me. But as I groped and clutched and panted and clambered I felt Zai's peace in my heart, holdin' me up as often as I had to stop and hang on until enough strength came back into my arms to start pullin' up again.

"The evil and the loneliness were worse than the danger; so bad that once or twice I nearly let go, just to bring it all to an end. I went so slowly: I seemed to be climbin' for hours; but I was climbin' towards the light, and that was what saved me. I could see that greenness filterin' down from above, comin' nearer, and after a long time I began to feel more confident of gettin' out.

"At last I pulled myself back up onto the first ledge again, with the stunted trees just above, and there I stood and prayed and gave thanks to the goddess, not for savin' me but for what was accomplished and ended. I stood prayin' until my heart was emptied of prayer, like drainin' a cup. I'd never prayed like that before.

"When I stepped out into the grass it was late afternoon by the sun and the day was coolin'. I waded out by a different

way, and as I left the tall weeds and grass and sank down on the turf-oh, banzi, you can' imagine what that felt like! It wasn't just knowin' you were goin' to live; it was havin' left that place behind-I saw the old priest comin'. He stooped and pulled me to my feet as if I'd been a little girl, and then he tookmeinhisarmswithoutaword.

"I didn' say anythin', either-not for-oh, minutes, I suppose. At last I whispered, 'It's done. Shall I go now?'

"At that he released me and stood back, shakin' his head. We sat down together on the short grass in the beautiful, calm evenin' smellin' of dew and tansy. Seemed as though I'd never seen evenin' before, and the swifts wheelin' and screamin' overhead like blessed spirits. I was cryin'. I said, 'Where are the soldiers?'

" 'Gone,' he answered.

" 'And Ashaktis?'

" 'She is dead.'

"I didn' ask him how. It was nice of him to have tidied up for me.

" 'Zuno?'

" 'He shall stay here with you until-'

"And at that, banzi, I interrupted him. It surprises me now: but I interrupted him because I was frightened. 'You mean I'm to be kept here, sir?' I cried. 'You mean to keep me here?'

"He took my hand again.

" 'My child,' he said very gently, 'you have come alive from the Streels of Urtah, like the Lord Deparioth's own mother. In all the years I have served the Streels this has never happened-no, nor yet in my lifetime, so far as I know. Yet even so, if that were the whole of it, you might perhaps go your way, though I should be sorry, for you would die and you deserve better. But there is more. You have been the instrument of those nameless ones who bring retribution upon crimes beyond mercy or forgiveness: upon those whose lives, continuing defile the very earth. My child, you are deodand. Where you have been and what you have performed have taken you beyond the circle of life.'

" 'I know that,' I said.

" 'If you want to come back; if you want your life to continue and not to be forfeit to the gods, you must undergo purification and the ritual of return. To have come alive from the Streels is to be a livin' phantom, until we have done what is needful for you.'

" 'But will my goddess accept your ritual?' I asked. 'My gods are not yours.'

" 'All gods are the same here,' he said. 'I shall invoke her for you, and she will hear. You need have no fear on that score.'

" 'How long-?' I was beginnin', when he added, 'The rains will begin soon. You are welcome to spend Melekril here with us-you and the young man too.'

"And so I did, banzi. I woan' tell you about all the rites and ceremonies and prayers. I couldn', anyway. They're secret, and I've already told you far more than I ought. It was a long business and a lot of sufferin', for the shock had gone far deeper than ever I realized that evenin'. I stayed all through Melekril, and I found more kindness and peace in that place than anywhere in my life since I left Silver Tedzhek. But when the spring came back-the spring before last-I was as fresh and strong as the leaves, and as ready to return as the kynat.

"One fine mornin' we set out together, Zuno and I. We went east to the high road and traveled back to Bekla with one of the iron caravans comin' in from Gelt. It only took four days."

"Go on," said Maia, as her friend fell silent. Occula's tale had affected her so deeply that she felt almost as though she herself had been carried into that other world of terror, and now also needed help to recover diurnal reality and mundane things. She wanted-she longed desperately- to hear and chat about living people and their affairs and fortunes. And Occula must need that, too. "Tell me about Bekla. Tell me everything that's happened since I left with Zenka and Anda-Nokomis."

Occula caressed and kissed her, smiling. Her happiness at being once more in Maia's company-at being able actually to see and touch her-was evident enough.

"Homesick, eh?" To all appearances she had resumed her old self, her terrible story cast aside like a black cloak from a brightly-colored robe. But certainly Maia-who if not she?-could sense that this was partly acting; never-

theless it was acting which, given the right response, would soon become reality.

"P'raps. Little bit. Go on, Occula!"

"Well, what shall I tell you?" said the black girl, reaching across for the Yeldashay. "When we got back we found a whole lot had happened. To begin with, Santil had taken Bekla-that was just after the rains began-and Kembri was dead. The way it all came about was like this. Elleroth was forcin' his way up through Purn, and he'd been joined by the Ortelgans-oh, yes, well, of course you know that: I ought to say you
did
that, oughtn' I? Apparently they only jus' managed to cut through Purn before the rains. What Elleroth wanted was to seize the bridge over the Zhairgen-the road to Ikat-if he could, and cut Kembri off from Bekla. Well, apart from the rains, which put a lot of his men down with fever-"

"Ah!" said Maia. "A few hours of it was enough for me. I was took real bad."

"I'm not surprised. Well, seems Elleroth and Ta-Kom-inion only had about four hundred men between them by the time they actually got to the road. But then they were joined by young Seekron and Mendel-el-Ekna, who were tryin' to get Randronoth's lads back to Lapan after failin' to take Bekla. And that lot, all together, were too much for the men Kembri had left at the bridge. They surrendered to Elleroth.

"Santil had marched north out of Ikat with the idea of attackin' Kembri in Lapan. When he started, he didn' feel there was really much hope of beatin' Kembri and gettin' to Bekla before the rains-he's told me as much himself, actually. Still, he thought he ought at least to try and attack the Chalcon army again as soon as possible, and not just sit around doin' nothin' while Kembri pulled them together. But what actually happened was that with Santil in front of them and Elleroth and the Lapanese behind, they mutinied. There was a commander called Kapparah." Occula grinned. "I've been to bed with him, actually. A real, hardened campaigner if ever there was one."

"I remember Shenda talking about him," said Maia. "He was the one as did so well in the battle on the road, wasn't he?"

"That's the fellow. Well, he led the mutiny. He said that with half a dozen different factions fightin' all over the empire and the whole place in chaos we'd have King Kar-

nat down on us any day-obviously he must know very well what was goin' on-and the time had come to put a stop to it. They killed Kembri, of course; cut him down outside his own tent and sent his head to Santil. I can' honestly say I felt sorry.

"So then Santil joined them and took over the command, and they marched fifty miles to Bekla in the rains- leastways, the ones who got there did. Elleroth wasn' with them, though. Seems he'd got badly cut up in a skirmish. One of his officers, a man called Mollo, saved his life and took him home to Sarkid. D'you know, I've never met Elleroth to this day? I often wish I had. I fancy the sound of him. He's quite a lad, by all accounts."

"Ah, he is that," said Maia. "I liked him very much. I don't think he'd be one to bounce you, though, somehow."

"Oh, no?" said Occula. "Want to bet? He might get the chance yet, you never know. Anyway, where was I? Oh, yes, Santil takin' Bekla. Well, there were plenty of high-up people in the upper city who managed to change sides quite successfully. Santil's a merciful man, you know. In fact, I'd say a very merciful man indeed, as I'll tell you in a minute. But the real genius behind the side-changin' lark was Shenda. It made his fortune-and mine too, I s'pose, really. For that's how I come to be here now, my dear, drinkin' this bowl of Yeldashay."

"Shenda?" said Maia. "But you were saying just now as Han-Glat was holding Bekla, after he'd got rid of Fomis."

"Yes, well, but this was where Shenda came in. You remember, of course, that Shenda was wounded and stayed in Bekla after he'd come back with Elvair. I told you how he came up from the temple that night to give Fornis the chief priest's message. I've often thought it's wonderful how the most unexpected people sometimes rise to an occasion-especially when somethin' has to be done and there's no one else to do it. Those last few days before the rains, that boy really got busy. You could say he revealed a real flair for diplomacy. Well, but he's a likable lad, isn' he? He talks straight and plain, he always seems cheerful and he's got a knack of makin' people think he's not as clever as they are but all the same he's honest; so they find themselves supposin' they've thought up all by themselves what he wanted them to think but never said in so many words. I've seen him do it again and again now.

"Anyway, Shenda told Han-Glat that he wanted to go

up to the citadel to see his father (his father was the castellan, you remember), and Han-Glat said all right. So off goes Shenda like a dutiful son, but when he got there he talked to Eud-Ecachlon. He told him straight out that he thought tryin' to hold the place for Kembri had become a hopeless business. Shenda said why didn' he surrender to Han-Glat and accept a safe-conduct to go home to Ken-dron-Urtah and succeed his father as High Baron, which was what the gods had always meant him to do?

"Well, poor old Eud-Ecachlon never was very bright, was he? I reckon he could have asked fifty thousand meld for handin' over that citadel to Han-Glat.
I
would have. I mean, it's quite impregnable, it was victualled for about a year and he could have held it against Santil and Han-Glat put together if he'd wanted. But anyway, he didn'. Probably he just wanted to get back home as soon as he could. Shenda got him to agree to come and talk to Han-Glat.

"Well, so then Shenda goes back to Han-Glat, if you please, and they talked for hours. Shenda pointed out that Sendekar was comin' from one direction and Santil from another and surely the best thing Han-Glat could do was to drive a bargain while he still had time-I mean, while he still had Bekla to bargain with. Han-Glat could see the sense of that all right. Apart from anythin' else, he had himself to bargain with, you see. Han-Glat's an engineerin' genius: there's no one to touch him in the whole empire. Bridges, roads, fortifications-you let him alone for those. That fortress at Dari-it's a bastin' miracle! I saw it for the first time a week ago. Any commander who passed up the chance of gettin' Han-Glat as an officer of works would be crazy.

"So the long and short of it was that Shenda made Han-Glat think that he himself had decided which side his bread was buttered; and he sent out envoys to Sendekar and Santil and said he'd hand over the city
and
the citadel in return for a high command for himself and no revenge or executions against the remainin' Leopards. Well, they both accepted that quick enough. I mean, the alternative was for Han-Glat to sit comfortably in Bekla through the rains, while they didn'. He's Santil's director of fortifications now: rich and powerful, and everybody's happy.

"So most people managed to sit the thing out quite comfortably. They always do, of course. Well, apart from anythin' else, a city like Bekla's got to be run by people

who know it and know how to keep law and order. Santit just took them over, and he's rulin' very well. Everybody likes him. What Shenda's here for now-when he gets to Terekenalt, I mean-is to try to negotiate the return of Suba to the Beklan Empire. Lenkrit's joinin' us in Terekenalt to talk to the new king. I think it'll go well, myself."

"But you were saying something about Santil being a very merciful man indeed," said Maia. "What was all that about, then?"

"Oh, yes, banzi; to be sure! Your friend Elvair-ka-Vir-rion-"

"Oh, what about him?" said Maia, with a quick shudder. She had not forgotten her last meeting with Elvair at the Barons' Palace.

"Well, of course, if there was one man Santil was in honor bound to destroy it was Elvair. As you remember, when Sencho was killed Elvair took poor Milvushina, who'd been betrothed to Santil, and refused to return her. It was common knowledge that he and Kembri meant to make her Sacred Queen if Elvair had beaten Santil. And they'd have done away with
you,
banzi, doan' you make any mistake about that. Oh, yes, they would!"

"I don't believe Elvair would ever have agreed to harm me," said Maia hotly. "I don't care what anyone says-"

"All right, all right, banzi! Calm down! Anyway, if you'
were
his friend, one thing's certain: after you left Bekla he hadn' another left in the world, unless perhaps it was Shenda. He was disgraced and ruined beyond all hope of recovery, and he knew it. Well, he'd gone mad, good as, hadn' he? But d'you know who came forward and said she'd always loved him? Who was ready to put herself in danger and plead for him and stick by him? Have a guess!"

Maia pondered. "I've no idea. Never Otavis, surely?"

"Oh, Cran, no! Otavis-she'd much better fish to fry. Give it up? Sessendris!"

"Sessendris?" said Maia, astonished. "Well, who'd ever 'a thought it? What happened, then?"

"The way I see it's like this," said the black girl. "You remember Sessendris was Kembri's saiyett? Well, Kem-bri's household was gone, of course, and all he'd possessed was forfeit, wasn' it? Sessendris had to think what she was goin' to do. Mind you, I always liked her-a nice woman. I mean, if only we'd had her at old Sencho's instead of that bastin' Terebinthia, things'd have been very different,

wouldn' they? I think she was speakin' no more than the truth when she said she'd always been very fond of Elvair. Anyway, she showed it now: either that or else she took a tremendous gamble to save somethin' for herself out of the wreck of Kembri's household. She went to Santil and begged for Elvair's life, and he actually agreed to spare him-I dare say he thought he was hardly worth killin', he was held in such contempt by everyone-provided she took him away somewhere, to the back of beyond.

"And so she did. They raised enough money between them to buy an estate somewhere up by Kabin, and there they are now, as far as I know.",

"Well, I hope they're happy, that's all I've got to say," said Maia. "I always liked Elvair. He was ever so nice to me, and just because he couldn't do that silly fighting-"

"And told everyone he could, and led hundreds of lads to their death," said Occula. "Still, we woan' argue about that, my precious banzi. I'll tell you about another man who's got a nice estate nowadays-Zirek. Santil gave him Enka-Mordet's estate in Chalcon."

"He never!"

"He did. Well, there were no next-of-kin left to inherit, you see, and it needed someone to step in and take over before it all went to pieces. Zirek's married to a Chalcon girl and doin' very nicely, apparently. I can' quite see him runnin' an estate, somehow, can you? But apparently he's thrivin'. He sent me a message-by a pedlar, if you please- sayin' wouldn' I go down there and stay with them? Well, p'raps I will one day, who knows?"

"But what happened when you got back to Bekla?" asked Maia. "To yourself, I mean? Do tell me."

"Oh, to me? Well, it was a bit like you comin' back from the Valderra, only not quite so spectacular, of course. No one knew exactly what had happened, you see. A few people know the name 'Streels'-though it's very unlucky to utter it-but no one really knows what they are, or what happens there. That's why I made you swear, banzi; and I strongly advise you never to break that oath, for your own sake."

"I shan't," said Maia. "Don't worry!"

"Well, anyway: they didn' know what had happened, but they knew I'd put paid to Fornis single-handed, because Zuno told them-that and no more. Santil sent for me and more or less offered me whatever I wanted, within

reason. I said all I wanted were Zai's jewels that Fornis had stolen. The rest I'd do on my own. He gladly gave me all the jewels, every one of them"-Occula touched for a moment the great emerald at her throat-"and then he said that of course I must have a house of my own in the upper city. Well, when I got to thinkin' about it I didn' see why I shouldn'. After all, N'Kasit had got one-and very well-deserved, too, everybody said. Fordil, too, by the way."

"Oh, I'm so glad!" cried Maia. "He was the best of the lot, was old Fordil! If anyone ever deserved honor and glory it was him!" s

"Oh, they come from all over everywhere these days, and pay him thousands to teach them; and he plays for the Thlela, of course. Anyway, Santil
did
give me a house, and whose d'you think it was? Whose?"

"Never
mine?"

Oecuja nodded, smiling. Maia looked at her with tears in her eyes, but whether of joy or sorrow even she herself could not have told.

"You doan' mind, banzi, do you?" asked Occula, with a touch of anxiety.

Maia shook her head. "Does the pantry door still stick? Ogma never could remember to get it fixed. Used to drive me wild, that it did."

"Probably. But tell you the truth, I only lived there until the beginnin' of last Melekril. That was when I joined Shenda and gave up bein' a shearna. We'd both made fortunes, anyway, you see. We're livin' in what used to be Sencho's house: that's a laugh, isn' it? I've changed it completely, of course. You'd hardly recognize it if you went back."

"Oh, do tell me! Every last thing!"

Occula did so, at length and in detail. "Kantza-Merada was still in our old place under the floorboard in the bedroom where we hid her that night-the night of the killin'. Remember?"