Maia (Beklan Empire 1)

And inwardly? Yes, well, she supposed she'd turned his head all right; that was what she was for, wasn't it? It was quite beyond Maia, even on the evidence, to perceive or have any inkling how completely; let alone to foresee or feel apprehensive about the possible consequences. This, however, was perhaps as well for her, since his infatuation, brought about entirely without her intention, was now irreversible, and no amount of anxiety on her part could have dispelled it.

Her impudent retort about her own value, coming from a child of fifteen, amused Randronoth enough to make him repeat it to the High Counselor, who nodded approvingly, feeling that she had done him credit. His lygol was exceptionally generous, and the tone of his farewell to her (though she soon forgot it) was more like that of a man parting from some incomparable paramour than from a slave-girl lent to him for a night. Later Terebinthia, in her customarily cool, half-grudging manner, remarked that she appeared to have given satisfaction.

With compensations of this kind such a life, despite its abasements and indignities, could not--to a girl like Maia-- help but tend to self-satisfaction, even while Terebinthia held her across the couch for the High Counselor to slap her plump young buttocks. And this gratifying state of mind, together with the sincere affection of Occula, was more than enough to overcome any boredom she might have felt at passing all her time either in the women's quarters or in attendance upon the High Counselor. In fact she found plenty to do, for Maia had never been inactive by nature. Encouraged by Occula, who believed strongly in the value of accomplishments, she wheedled Dyphna into giving her lessons in reading and, catching Terebinthia one day in a good mood, persuaded her to hire a skilled seamstress to improve her needlework. She also learned a little of the hinnari--"just enough to be able to accompany yourself, anyway," said Occula; but the truth was, as Maia knew, that she possessed no more than an ordinarily pleasant voice.

The dance, however, was another matter. In this, more than in anything else, she took pleasure and progressed, and under Occula's tuition would practice for hours not only the flowing, seductive sequences of the senguela but also other dances--Yeldashay, Belishban and the stamping, whirling rhythms of the Deelguy; for at the Lily Pool Occula had watched and talked to many visiting dancing-girls and picked up a great deal.

On certain evenings, when the other girls were on duty in the bath or the dining-hall and she was alone, Maia would sit pensive at a window, her hands in her lap, looking out at the falling rain; neither fretting nor melancholy but, country-fashion, letting her thoughts stray where they would. Sometimes she would choose the long, northern window looking down towards the wall bounding the upper city, the Peacock Gate and the vista of descending streets be-yond, from among which soared the lower city's tall, slender towers. These she could now recognize and name at a glance. Or again, she would sit at the west window, with its prospect across the green, dripping garden and bordering grove of birches to the shore of the Barb. A mile away, on the further side of the water, rose the Leopard Hill, crowned by the Palace of the Barons with its twenty symmetrical towers. Once, when the rain chanced to cease for a short while at sunset, the western clouds parted briefly to reveal a huge, crimson sun; a heavy, glowing sphere floating as though half-submerged, borne up, dipping and rolling in a fluid sky--swimming down, she thought, among far-away lands; Katria, Terekenalt and further yet--perhaps over that city of Silver Tedzhek which Occula had spoken of, out beyond the Govig. "Happen it's shining on that Long Spit up the river, where they hold the fair," she thought. "It must just about look pretty, with that red sun setting." For of course it did not occur to Maia that the time of day would be different in a far-off land--that in Tedzhek it would still be afternoon.

She would recall that drudging childhood she was glad to think she had left behind; of no further interest, remnant as a discarded dress or a faded bunch of flowers. Only for the rippling solitude of Lake Serrelind, and for her happy waterfall, did she still feel a pang of regret, and--yes! for Tharrin, that strolling, smiling, rather seedy adventurer. He was shallow, a rascal, of no account--this she could now see plainly. While she was daily before his eyes he had not been able to resist her; indeed, it had never occurred to him even to try--no, indeed, rather the reverse. Yet once she was gone, he had let that be the end of it. Too bad, but these things happened, didn't they? At least, they always had--to him. Easy come, easy go. "Wonder what mother said when he came back?" she thought. "Ah, and what he said an' all. Just about nothing, I dare say. All the same, he was kind and good-natured; he liked a good time; he made you laugh; we had a bit of fun. I wouldn't say no to him, not even now. Leastways he wasn't one to bite and pinch and set you crawling over the floor. Oh--" and here she gazed down pleasurably at her clothes and the jewels on her fingers and arms--"wouldn't I just about like to rub his face in this lot? 'See?' I'd say. 'This is what I've got out of you not being man enough even to try to get me back. 'Fraid I can't stop now--I've got to go and be basted by the Lord General of Bekla, for more than two hundred meld. Ta-ta!' "

Ah! The Lord General of Bekla. And thus her thoughts came sharply back to the present. Mostly, during the day, she was successful in keeping her anxiety at arm's length. Sometimes she was able to persuade herself that nothing at all would follow from what the Lord General had offered (or demanded of) her.

Yet alone, in the rain-scented evening, with the thrushes singing in the green silence, the recollection of what he had said about danger would come trickling back into her mind like water under a door--indisputable evidence of worse outside. What sort of danger? When? Where? From whom? "If you survive." This, for all she knew, was probably the sort of thing generals commonly said to their soldiers.

She wished Kembri had not said it to her.

Yet here, if the Lord General was to be trusted, lay the hope of greater and quicker gain than she could expect from any other quarter. To be free, and set up as a Beklan shearna, and that before she was much older! This was the thing to dwell upon, this was the thing to hope for. "When I'm a shearna, I'll--" and as the clouds closed once more across the red sun and the rain returned, Maia's thoughts ran buoyantly on towards an indistinct but glorious future; for she was young and healthy and, like most people until they have met catastrophe face-to-face, had a vague idea that it could never really happen to her. She was lucky! Lucky Maia! Had not her very enslavement turned out, all in all, a big change for the better? As Terebinthia came in to summon her to the dining-hall she would dismiss her fears, turning from the window and unfastening her bodice to lie half-open in the way she knew the High Counselor liked.

Occula, too, though she never spoke of it, seemed by no means without anxiety. She had set up in their room the polished, black image of Kantza-Merada, and more than once Maia, returning unexpectedly, would find her prostrate before it, her face--certainly on one occasion-- wet with tears. Maia became familiar with the words of that liturgy which she had first heard by the stream between Hirdo and Khasik:

"Most strangely, Kantza-Merada, are the laws of the dark world effected. O Kantza-Merada, do not question the laws of the nether world."

This and more Occula would repeat nightly, sometimes clasping the figure of the goddess between her hands as she did so; striving desperately, one might think, to wring comfort from it as juice from a fruit.

One night, as they were preparing for bed, Maia, happening to pick up the pottery Cat Colonna, saw that Occula had roughly scratched a few words--presumably with her knife--across the base. Slowly, she spelt them out. " 'Ready--do--as you wish.' What's that, then, Occula?"

"That?" For a moment Occula seemed startled. "Oh, that's--that's what we used to call an incised prayer. You know, you take the trouble to scratch it on, an' that makes the prayer--well, it sort of makes it work. That's a prayer of submission."

"Submission? To what?"

"Oh, I dunno--everythin': anythin': to whatever has to be done, that's all." She stood up, yawning and stretching smooth, black arms above her gown of white sati

n. "Come on, help me off with this. Cran, it's heavy! Unhook the back, banzi, and then hold it while I step out. Oh, I could sleep for days, couldn' you?"

28: A LITTLE AMUSEMENT

Maia, making up the charcoal brazier at the further end of the small dining-hall, returned to the High Counselor's couch, helped herself to a bowl of egg-yolks frothed in lemon, wine and sugar, and lay down among the cushions at his feet.

Sencho had spent the greater part of the morning in questioning and giving instructions to a succession of outlandish, raffish persons, most of whom were obviously poor and one or two, actual vagrants (or might they, Maia wondered, be merely disguised as vagrants?). The girls had not, of course, been in attendance. Terebinthia had brought the men one by one into the High Counselor's presence, and as each was dismissed paid him whatever meager sum Sencho ordered. None, however, had been allowed to leave until all had been heard; after which six or seven had been kept back for further questioning until Sencho had resolved to his satisfaction certain inconsistencies in what they had told him. Three, who arrived masked, had been kept in separate rooms until summoned.

Whatever the result of the morning's work, it was evidently pleasing to Sencho. As noon approached he seemed in excellent spirits, instructing Terebinthia to see that the small hall was prepared and that Maia and Occula were ready to add to his enjoyment of a well-earned dinner.

It was soon clear that his satisfaction with the reports of the spies had stimulated his greed to an even greater degree than usual. When at length, after more than an hour, the time came for an enforced rest, he showed no inclination to drowse, requiring instead that the girls should entertain him until he felt capable of eating again.

One of the High Counselor's amusements at such times was to misuse or spoil food in one way or another; for it pleased him to feel that he, who had starved and stolen as a child, was now able not only to consume excessive quantities purely for his pleasure, but also to waste them if he wished. Sometimes he would have some emaciated beggar brought in off the streets and, having deliberately fouled a dish of veal or a game pie before his eyes, would graciously permit him to eat it before being sent away: or, ordering two or three girls to be brought up from one of the pleasure-houses of the lower city, he would promise a large sum of money to the one who could eat most in half an hour, watching intently as they gobbled, crammed and choked over the rich food to which their stomachs were quite unaccustomed.

Today he caused Terebinthia to fill a great, silver basin with clotted cream until it was almost brimming.

Then, himself undressing Occula, he told her to sit down in it. The black girl did so, lending herself to the game by lolling and wriggling from side to side until the cream had covered her smooth, brown body from belly to thighs. Then, getting up, she stood obediently as the High Counselor proceeded to decorate her loins with an intricate pattern of cherries, almonds, fragments of angelica, sugared violets and the like.

Maia, excited by the extravagance and waste and by the bizarre sight of her pretty friend literally clothed in food, was as usual unable to confine herself to her proper role as a slave-girl, but must needs be joining in the sport, hanging pairs of cherries from Occula's ears and nipples and then, laughing at her own ingenuity, peeling the skin from the long finger of an itarg-fruit and thrusting it between her legs. Her fellow-feeling for the game pleased Sencho, who at length resumed his dinner by causing Occula to remain beside the couch so that he could lick the creamy confection from her body; while Maia, crouching, made use of the frothed egg-yolks to indulge him in a somewhat similar manner.

The game having concluded, predictably, in an access of contentment for the High Counselor, Maia (who before the end had become somewhat disarranged) was putting herself to rights, while Terebinthia wiped Occula down with a towel wrung out in warm water, when the ringing of a small bell was heard outside the door. This indicated that a servant wished to speak to Terebinthia; it being a strict rule that no one but the saiyett herself was ever to enter the hall when Sencho was with his girls. She went out and returned to inform the High Counselor that an aristocratic visitor had called--none other than the young lord Elvair-ka-Virrion---accompanied by a lady, and begged to be graciously permitted to speak with him for a few minutes.

In the normal way Sencho would not have dreamed of allowing such an intrusion upon his dinner, but his satisfaction in the morning's work and the exalted social position of his visitor, as well as the pleasure which Maia had just so skillfully afforded, disposed him to stretch a point; the more especially as he rather hoped that some opportunity might present itself to affront or disgust the unknown lady.

Elvair-ka-Virrion's companion, when he entered the hall behind Terebinthia, proved to be Nennaunir, the shearna whom Occula had met some days before at the conclusion of her visit to the Lord General.

Elvair-ka-Virrion, who was as usual magnificently and flamboyantly dressed and was carrying over one arm a heavy cloak of leopard-skins, greeted the High Counselor with as much ease and self-possession as though he had not been lying half-drunk among naked girls. Having accepted wine for himself and his companion, and respectfully complimented the High Counselor on its excellent quality, he went on to say that he had come in person to ask him a favor. He was giving a party the following night, and wished to spare no pains to ensure that plenty of attractive girls should be present.

"You have here, my lord," he said, spreading his hands and smiling, "well--what one would expect of an establishment such as yours--the most striking girls in the city. Occula here is unique: I'm sure she sweeps downstream like a Telthearna flood. As for this Tonildan girl, one has only to look at her to suppose that Lespa has returned from among the stars. In short, my lord, if you'll lend them to me tomorrow I'm in no doubt they'll do you the greatest credit."

While he was speaking Maia, who had begun by taking in every detail of his fine figure and beautiful clothes, gradually became more fully aware of the young woman standing a little apart as she sipped her wine. Nennaunir, she thought, must be about twenty-one. She had dark-brown hair which curled naturally over her shoulders, very fine skin and exquisitely beautiful, delicate hands, on one of which she was wearing a gold ring set with some tawny, translucent stone carved in the form of a crouching leopard. Her close-fitting robe, very slightly transparent above the waist to reveal--or not quite to reveal--her firm breasts, was of a dull-toned, rather dark red, plain except for an inch-deep gold border which matched her sandals. Its surface was without luster and slightly rough; Maia guessed that it must be made of raw silk. She looked, in fact, not only wealthy but as respectable as any daughter of a baron or wife of an officer.

Apart from her dress and appearance, however, there was about Nennaunir a certain quality which engaged Maia's interest so strongly that after a time she ceased to pay attention to Elvair-ka-Virrion, watching instead the young shearna and trying to enter into her thoughts and feelings as she stood leaning against a column, looking demurely down and idly examining the decoration of the silver goblet in her hand. A man, Maia realized after a little, would see in Nennaunir whatever she intended him to see. To a woman she was inscrutable, for no sooner did one fancy that one had perceived her frame of mind, than one's thoughts stopped short, checked--baffled, even--by an intimation of what seemed the exact opposite. Her eye wandered knowledgeably and appreciatively over the fountain nymph among her jade reeds, the mosaic floor and other luxurious appointments of the hall. Yet at the same time she evinced--or rather, did not quite evince--a faint air of distaste for the High Counselor. The next moment--and it seemed as though she herself had not changed but rather that Maia's viewpoint had, as it were, altered slightly, as might that of someone looking at the varying colors reflected from the bevelled edge of a glass--she appeared amused, with a hint of excitement, as though it would not take much to make her undress and join the girls on the couch. From this she was restrained only--so she appeared to suggest-- by devotion to Elvair-ka-Virrion. At least, this d

evotion was implied in her eyes, which were frequently turned towards him with a look of admiration. But then again her glance would catch Terebinthia's with the complicit air of one professional to another. Towards Maia and Occula her manner was slightly distant, not unfriendly but a little aloof, as befitting one who had risen above their level. "You may come to be like me, in time," her brief smile seemed to say. "I'm inclined to doubt it, but I wish you well all the same."

Maia felt daunted by her assurance and poise: her mingling of authority with deference, warmth with detachment, honesty with artifice, candor with reticence. Sufficiently sharp to perceive all this and to realize, too, that this skillful balance, no doubt imperceptible to men entirely taken up with her physical grace and beauty, constituted the essence of an accomplished shearna, Maia could not help wondering whether she herself would ever be able to attain such ability. A shearna, she now saw clearly enough, needed to be an actress; yet it would be of no avail merely to copy Nennaunir. Actress or no, her style was individual--it was all one with her looks, her movement (lighter and quicker than Maia's), the tone of her voice and her cast of countenance. This girl had succeeded in becoming what she--Maia--and Occula were hoping to become. And in the very act of leaning by the fountain, toying with her wine and not in the least appearing to be doing five things at once, she was giving an all-too-clear demonstration of how she had achieved her success. "It's like she keeps putting on different masks," thought Maia. "Only they're see-through masks an' all. It's always herself you think you see underneath."