"But--er--surely you made rather a success of it, didn't you, as far as I recall?"
(As far as I recall. Oh dear, oh dear!) "I know. It was on account of--of something else." The djebbah was really taking effect now: her head was fairly spinning.
"Well, but you did harm him, didn't you?" said Zenka, "and me too, come to that. But it's all dead and done with now."
"My love, I never went to harm you, nor Anda-Nokomis neither."
"What?"
"No, I never! Oh, darling Zenka, I wanted to save you both! Oh, and so many more! Anda-Nokomis, do you remember Gheta at the farm?"
"Gehta at the farm? What farm? Don't you mean Clystis?"
"No, no!" He looked blank. "Then surely you remember Sphelthon at the ford? Poor boy, he's at peace now, anyway."
"She's light-headed," said Zenka sympathetically. "It's not surprising. We must take care of her once we--"
"I'm not light-headed!" she cried. "It's men that's light-headed! All of you, everywhere! If you'd only seen that poor boy at the ford."
She began to cry. "I never meant you to go to that horrible fortress, or be tormented by that wicked woman. I neverl I never meant to betray you! I didn't do it for the Leopards! I didn't do it to be the Serrelinda! I just wanted to stop you all killing each other! I'd seen what fighting did to people! I wanted Sendekar to get to the river in time to stop your king getting across, only it just didn't work out like that."
Anda-Nokomis put his arm round her.
"You'd better tell us everything, Maia--about Gheta and Sphelthon and all the rest. A great deal seems to have happened on our journey to Suba that I failed to see."
By fits and feverish, tipsy starts, she told them everything--how Gehta had told her of her terror of an invasion of western Urtah; how she had knelt by Sphelthon at the ford; how she had been left alone in Melvda-Rain when the armies were assembling, to reflect on Karnat's plan and what it would mean for her own people.
"But I never let on to any of the Leopards, Zenka," she ended. "I never told Sendekar or Kembri or any of them as it was you that told me. I loved you then and I love you now and that was why I went to the jail that night in Bekla and made them let out the both of you."
Zen-Kurel, leaving the oar to trail in the current, dropped on his knees and kissed her.
"Whether you were right or wrong doesn't matter anymore. What matters is that you didn't do it for yourself or to harm anyone. You did it out of pity, didn't you? I might have guessed that."
"But if you'd known in Melvda-Rain that you were Su-ban--" Bayub-Otal was beginning, when all three of them looked up in surprise, hearing a long, ululating call in the distance. Zen-Kurel, gripping the oar once more, trimmed their course, while Bayub-Otal, helping Maia to her feet, stood looking out over the water.
"Who is it?" asked Zen-Kurel, peering from one bank to the other. "Is it us he's calling to?"
After a moment Maia pointed. Perhaps two hundred yards off and a little astern, in the bare, flat fields stretching away behind the dyke, a man was waving to them and pointing downstream. He was clearly a shepherd, for with him were two dogs and a little group of three or four sheep huddled together. In all the rainswept desolation there was not another soul to be seen.
"Those'll be strays he's been out after," said Anda-Nokomis.
"What's he saying, though?" said Zen-Kurel, cupping his hand to his ear. The man, as best he could, was running after them, plainly agitated. His voice reached them again.
"Boom! Boom!"
"What's he mean?" asked Zen-Kurel. "That's nonsense--boom, boom!"
"I wish it was," said Maia. "he's warning us there's a boom across the river lower down."
"I remember now," said Bayub-Otal. "Some Belishban once told me in Bekla: they keep a boom across the river at the frontier, to stop rafts and boats and make them pay duty. No doubt they stop fugitives, too," he added grimly.
"A boom?" asked Zen-Kurel, "across a river this breadth? What can it be made of, for Cran's sake?"
"There's only one thing it could be made of," said Maia. "Ortelgan rope: probably with bells, to give warning if a boat runs on it at night."
"Can't we cut it, then?"
"They wouldn't have a boom if you could get past it that easy. It'll be nearly as thick as your arm, and winched up level with the surface. There'll be a frontier post with bowmen, for sure."
"But if we stop they'll recognize us," said Bayub-Otal. "This hand of mine--everyone knows what I look like: you too, Maia, come to that. And they'll be Leopard soldiers, probably warned already to look out for us. Anyone in Bekla would guess that since we escaped I'd be trying to get to Suba. If we're brought ashore in Belishba we'll be seized and held; that's certain."
"Perhaps I could bribe them," said Maia.
Zen-Kurel shook his head. "They all hate Katrians too much, my darling. They'd only take all you'd got and then send us back to Bekla; there or Dari."
No one spoke for more than half a minute, while the boat, rain-heavy again now, drifted on in the dusk.
The only sounds were the creak of the steering-oar and the rain on the timbers.
"Here's what we'll do," said Maia suddenly, "and you'd just better listen, the both of you, 'cos there's no time to think of anything else. There's the guard-houses now, look, only just down there. See the lights?"
Zen-Kurel looked where she was pointing. "Gods! One each side! Who'd have thought it? And look, further down still there's a village; can you see? That must be in Katria!"
"Will you only listen?" she said again. "It's ten to one there'll be no one actually outside in all this rain. That means we won't be spotted until we hit the boom. Then I reckon it'll go taut and ring a bell. Each of you get hold of an oar, now. I'll take the boat over towards the left bank and run her on the boom sideways on, best as I can. Then you'll both have to jump for it. The oars'll hold you up, near enough, to go down a hundred yards and get ashore."
"But what about you?" asked Zen-Kurel.
"Soon as you've gone I'll dive in and swim under water far 's I can. I'll be there 'fore you, no danger. Might give you a hand out, even." She gave each of them a quick kiss. "Now grab your oars and get over that side, 'cos here it comes.'
She leant hard on the steering-oar, turning the boat to port as they drifted down towards the guard-huts facing each other on opposite sides of the river. The smoke from their chimneys hung low over the roofs and lamps were alight inside. She could hear male voices, but there was not a soul to be seen. Good!
On either side, sticking up out of the flood water between the huts and the river, were two stout posts.
Their tops were cloven, and in these grooves ran, as she expected, a thick rope. Upon the river side of each hung a bell as big as her head. She couldn't see how the ends of the rope were secured; probably to iron rings, she supposed, but all she was looking at was the river between. About ten feet out on each side the rope, sagging, disappeared into the water. How far would it be under in the middle, then? Could she have hoped to sail over it? Hardly; they'd have thought of that. It wouldn't have been worth the risk to try: if it had turned out wrong her men would never have been able to reach the bank from midstream.
Anyway, it was too late to change now.
Ahead she could see a regular undulation where the river flowed over the rope. With all her strength she shoved the handle of the oar over to starboard. The boat turned and checked broadside on to the stream: then the starboard beam drifted gently against the rope. The boat listed but the rope gave only slightly--less than she'd expected.
"Now!" she cried, and in the same moment heard both the bells ringing. Anda-Nokomis and Zenka, clutching their oars, flung themselves over the starboard side.
Maia remained standing in the tilted stern, clutching the steering-oar to keep her balance. This was the bit she hadn't told them about. She unbuttoned her tunic, letting it hang open, and ripped her shift to the waist.
A voice was shouting "Turn out! Turn out!" Soldie
rs, one or two with torches, others stringing their bows, were pouring out of both guard-huts, peering into the rain as their eyes adjusted to the almost-gone light.
"Help!" she cried. "Help me! Oh, Cran, I'll drown if you don't help me!"
"What the hell d'you think you're doing, girl?" shouted one of the men; the tryzatt, she supposed.
"Where've you come from?"
"I didn't know about the rope!" she shouted. "Oh, please help me!"
"Well, you know now," answered the tryzatt. "You mean you're alone?"
"Yes: I took the boat to run away from home. Please help me!"
"My stars, just look at her!" shouted another of the soldiers.
"Can you swim?"
"A little, yes. Oh, but I'm so frightened!"
No one had spotted her men yet; she mustn't look in their direction for fear of drawing attention to them.