Maia (Beklan Empire 1)

But Maia was not where they had expected. Exercising the privilege of the frissoor, she had taken possession of the dais behind their backs; and here she was lying on the great table, all among the scattered flower-garlands, her parted legs, bent at the knees, clasped about her invisible lover as Lespa writhed in her joy. No one saw her until, she gave a swift, inarticulate cry of pleasure--the only sound she had uttered all through the story--they turned in surprise, pressing forward, all of them consumed to look at her once again as she lay striving in the half-light, head flung back and hair streaming.

So now they themselves had involuntarily assumed the part of the villagers--the mean-minded louts and harridans come to besmirch her bliss, to rub the butterfly's wings between their dirty fingers and thumbs.

Lespa, suddenly aware of them, buried her face in her hands, rolled quickly over and dropped off the table into the shadow beneath.

Following the tradition of the senguela, the climax of the reppa--the apotheosis of Lespa through the celestial love of Shakkarn--could be represented in various ways, according to the resources of the occasion and the temperament of the dancer. Sometimes, when her surroundings made this practicable, the girl would pace, divine and unheeding, straight through the audience, ascend a staircase and so be gone; or again, she might be escorted by children dressed as cherubs to a goat-horned throne set among clouds and stars. But no such help was available to Maia. Neither could Fordil help her. Yet on the music went, an audible expression of that ineffable harmony forever sounding in the ears of the gods, and on she must go with it. Slowly she stood up, her face radiant (and goodness knows I got something to be happy about, she thought, else I'm very much mistook), and began, on the level floor of the dais, to climb easily upward, her limbs unhindered by the least weight from her body--for had she not become a goddess?--first through the trees (she parted their branches before her), then through the clouds and at last among the glittering aisles of the stars. Once or twice she stretched out a hand--the graceful, sturdy girl--to that of her divine lover, manifest now as the god Shakkarn, he whose animal nature she had accepted in herself and embraced in her erstwhile humanity. He ascended with her until, among the last whisperings of the hinnaris and the lightest breath-ings of the flutes, she stood motionless, arms outspread, head down-bent in blessing, to take up her eternal, nightly task of scattering truth in dreams to all the dwellers upon earth. And thus she remained, aloft upon the table and gazing gravely downward as the music at last died away and ceased.

For long seconds there was silence throughout the hall. Then a murmur like a sigh rose from her audience. As it died away a man in a blue robe, standing a few feet from Sarget, asked him, "Who is the girl?" Before Sarget could reply, however, Elvair-ka-Virrion, looking quickly round, answered "She's Maia--from Serrelind!" At this others, laughing, began teasing the blue-robed man, turning towards him and echoing, "Maia! She's Maia!"

Gradually this took on the nature of an ovation. "Maia!" called Elvair-ka-Virrion again, raising his hand in the traditional sign of salute to the winner of a contest. Shend-Lador and several other young men took it up. One, pushing his way forward, climbed the steps of the dais and fell on his knees before the table.

From all sides came cries of "Maia! Maia!" as the company, both men and women, raised their hands, fingers outspread, in the gesture of acclaim.

Maia, bewildered now and uncertain what it would be best for her to do, still made no response, even with a glance or a smile. During the close of the reppa she had become virtually oblivious of being watched. Self-forgotten as a child in play, to herself she had been Lespa, and had even seen the dreams drifting like snowflakes from her down-turned fingers upon the sleeping earth below. She had not forsaken her audience; she had transcended them. She had, in fact, been not far from the presence of the goddess; and was seldom to feel herself so close again (such moments, not to be commanded even through the greatest skill or experience, being a matter of grace and coming when they will). At no time, of course, had she ceased being to some extent aware of her real surroundings, but during the dance their aspect and her relation to them had become transformed. Now they slowly resumed once more their normal, mundane properties. The effect was a kind of shock. As everyone round her was noisily affirming, she was Maia, standing naked on a table before the eyes of some eighty men and women whom she had just excited to fever-pitch. What should she do now? Climb down from the table, scramble back into her dress and accept a drink? This struck her as less than seemly. Yet for the life of her she could not think of any truly fitting way to conclude what she had accomplished.

So there she stood, unmoving. It was Sarget himself-- probably the most sensitive man in the room--who, discerning her predicament, came to her rescue. A slave had already retrieved her dress from where she had shed it and was now standing near the doors, holding it over his arm. Sarget, however, ignored him, went quickly out into the corridor and, before the ovation had subsided, returned carrying a fur cloak. Climbing onto the table, he stood for a few moments beside the still-rapt Maia, smiling and waving acknowledgment on her behalf. Then, wrapping the cloak round her shoulders, he helped her down and gave her his arm out of the hall.

Sarget, having led her to a room along the corridor, remained only to speak a few words of praise--Maia could do no more than smile in reply--before leaving her alone. What he might be going to arrange she had no idea and felt too much exhausted even to wonder.

A minute later Nennaunir came in, carrying the cherry-colored dress.

"Do you know what you've done, my dear?" she asked. "They've all gone mad for you! There are forty goats out there, not just one--and if they're not gods, at least they're real. Gods don't give lygols, either. If you want your pick I shouldn't leave it too long, 'cos you've put all the girls in heat as well."

"The girls?" answered Maia vaguely. "How's that, then?"

"Oh, really, my dear, surely you know--women get al-most more excited than men when they watch that sort of thing. Every woman fancies it's herself up there, driving all the men out of their minds. But you were splendid, you know. Wherever did you learn?"

"Occula taught me--just to pass the time, kind of style."

"Really? Then, Maia dear, all I can say is you've got great talent: you certainly mustn't waste it. I'll gladly help you. I'll--" She broke off. "But how can I, while you belong to that pig? Does he know you can do that?"

Maia laughed. "Didn't know it myself. No, he don't; nor he wouldn't care if he did."

Suddenly there rose before her mind's eye the face of Chia, the cast-eyed girl whom she and Occula had met at Lalloc's. What sort of luck might Chia have had since then? Little enough, most likely. How strange, she thought, to find myself sorry to belong to the High Counselor of Bekla! Don't know when I'm well off, do I?

"Whose is this cloak, d'you suppose?" she asked, to change the subject; for Nennaunir would not want to continue talking about Sencho. "What a beauty, isn't it?" She slipped it off and began getting dressed.

"It's mine," said the shearna. "I told Sarget to take it for you. The governor of Kabin gave it me last time he was here. It cost eight thousand meld."

"Eight thousand meld?" Maia stared.

"Governors collect taxes; didn't you know? Otherwise why be a governor? Don't worry, pet--you go on as you've started and you'll be getting as good before long, take my word for it. Anyway, I'll give you a hand with your dress if you like: and here's a comb. You ought to go back while they're still asking for you, you know. Who's the girl who came with you, by the way? Pretty, isn't she? Does she belong to filthy Sencho, too?"

"Yes; he got her after Meris was sold."

Nennaunir waited, clearly expecting more. After a few moments, as Maia added nothing, she said, "She's no peasant: anyone can see that. Father ruined, or something?"

"I'm not just too sure about the rights of it, tell you the truth." Maia had no intention of risking the punishment which Terebinthia had threatened.

"

Aren't you?" replied Nennaunir rather curtly. "Oh, well, if you don't-- Anyway, she's evidently made a great impression on Elvair. They've been together all the evening. Sarget brought a girl for Elvair but in fact he's hardly spoken to her. Never mind--I hope it does your friend some good, the poor banzi. She's lost more than most, if I'm any judge."

There was a tap at the door. Maia, a slave with no claim to privacy and in any case unaccustomed to such niceties, made no response, but Nennaunir called "Come in!"

Bayub-Otal entered, followed by a servant with wine, fruit and biscuits. Maia, rather taken aback, was slower than she should have been to look delighted, but her lapse was expertly covered by the more experienced Nennaunir, who was on her feet in a moment, all smiles.

"Come to congratulate her, my lord, or to get ahead of the others--or both? U-Sarget told me it was your idea for her to dance. You knew then, did you, how good she was?"

"She may become very good, I think," replied Bayub-Otal composedly, "in time." He crossed over to the table, poured some of the wine and handed a goblet to each girl. "And with more practice."

Nennaunir was far too adept to be provoked or to take up cudgels. "Well, if you think that, my lord, I'm sure she can feel really proud. There's plenty of girls who'd like to have been standing on that table tonight, but none I know who'd have got the acclaim she did."

Bayub-Otal made no reply and after a moment Nennaunir, murmuring something about needing to have a word with U-Sarget, slipped out of the room.

Maia went on combing her hair, which crackled and floated above her bare shoulders. She wondered in what manner this strange man would embark on the business of expressing his desire--for this was obviously what he must have come for. In a way, she reflected, he had already begun to do so, by compelling her to perform the senguela. He had clearly been determined to see her dance again. He had placed confidence in her. However slight her natural inclination towards him, she could only feel deeply grateful for that. It was entirely to him that she owed this outstanding success, which might very possibly lead on to--who could tell what? Well, she would certainly pay her debt to him, and warmly and bountifully at that, even though he might not be exactly her idea of Shakkarn incarnate. Her beauty, her body, was all she had to give him, and her gratitude was as sincere as it could be. Indeed, at this moment Maia had quite forgotten her ulterior, secret purpose--Kembri's purpose. Why, now she came to think about it, she would positively enjoy giving herself to him-- yes, really! She'd no doubt be able to help him--teach him a thing or two. Oh, yes, he had a funny way with him, but then he'd had a funny life--and his poor hand and all. After this evening she really couldn't find it in her heart to deny him. He deserved a nice time, he really did.

He had still done nothing to break the silence. Why not a hand on her shoulder? Or better still, his lips to her shoulder; then her cheek could turn just a little and touch his. What a pity he seemed never to have learned any such ways! Well, but even so, he could at least speak, surely? He'd had time enough now, in all conscience, to think of something to say.

She turned round on her stool. Bayub-Otal was sitting on a bench, his back against the table, gazing absently down into his wine-cup with the air of one waiting without impatience. He certainly didn't look nervous or tense; not in the least like a man wondering what best to say or how to say it. Glancing up, his eye met hers, whereupon he smiled slightly, nodded and sipped his wine.

"Nearly ready?"

Perplexed, she frowned a moment. "Oh, yes, I'm quite done, my lord."

She stood up, turning one way and the other to make sure her skirt swung freely. "Were you waiting for me? I'm ready all right!"