"Tell me," he said, finding the words slowly and with some difficulty, "you understand I know nothing of your country, and need to learn as much as I can--what part do women play in--ew--well, life; that is, public life? Can they own land, buy and sell, go to--to law and so on--or are they more--more secluded?"
"They do none of those things." She looked startled. "Do they in your country?"
"Why, yes, these things are certainly possible for a woman--say, one with property, whose husband has died--who wishes to stand on her rights and conduct her own affairs, you know."
"I've never heard of anything like that."
"But you--forgive me--I lack the word--your way suggests to me that women may have a good deal of freedom here."
She laughed, evidently delighted. "Don't go by me when you reach Bekla, or some husband will knife you. I'm a little unusual, though it would take too long to explain why. I was once a priestess, but apart from that I've lived a--very different sort of life from most women. And then again, this is still a remote, half-civilized province, and my husband can do with almost anyone, man or woman--especially when it comes to helping the children. I act freely on his behalf and people accept it, partly because it's me and partly because we need every head and every pair of hands we've got."
Could she once have been some kind of sacred prostitute? thought Siristrou. It did not seem likely. There was a certain delicacy and sensitivity about her which suggested otherwise.
"A priestess?" he asked. "Of the god of this country?"
"Of Lord Shardik. In a way I'm still his priestess--his servant, anyway. The girl you saw here just now, Zilthe, was also his priestess once. She was badly injured in his service--that's how she came to be as you see her now, poor girl. She came here from Bekla. She feels safer and happier with us."
"I understand. But Shardik--that's the second time today I've heard his name. 'Shardik gave his life for the children, Shardik saved them.'" Siristrou had always had an excellent phonetic memory.
She clapped her hands, startled. "Why, that's Deelguy you're speaking now! Wherever did you hear that?"
"The ferrymen were singing it on the raft this morning."
"The Deelguy? Were they really?"
"Yes. But who is Shardik?"
She stood back, faced him squarely and spread her arms wide.
"This is Shardik."
Siristrou, feeling slightly embarrassed, looked closely at the robe. Certainly the workmanship was quite unusual. The huge bear, red-eyed and rippling like a flame, stood snarling before a man armed with a bow, while behind, a group of ragged children were crouching upon what appeared to be a tree-lined river bank. It was certainly a savage scene, but to its meaning there was no clue. Animal worship? Human sacrifice, perhaps? He feared he might be getting drawn into deep water--and his command of the language was still so deficient. One must at all costs avoid wounding the susceptibilities of this high-spirited girl, who no doubt had great influence with her husband.
"I hope to learn more about him," he said at length. "That is certainly a splendid robe--most beautiful workmanship. Was it made in Bekla, or somewhere nearer here?"
She laughed again. "Nearer here certainly. The cloth came from Yelda, but my women and I embroidered it in this house. It took us half a year."
"Marvelous work--marvelous. Is it--er--sacred?"
"No, not sacred, but I keep it for--well, for occasions of importance. I put it on for you, as you see."
"You honor me, and--and the robe deserves the lady. There--in a language I've been learning for only two months!" Siristrou was enjoying himself.
She answered nothing, replying to him only with a glance sharp, bright and humorous as a starling's. He felt a quick pang. Injured arm or no injured arm, the governor was younger than he.
"Robes like this--not so fine as yours, of course, but of this kind--could they be traded to my country, do you think?"
Now she was teasing him, rubbing her hands and bowing obsequiously, like some greasy old merchant flattering a wealthy customer.
"Why, surely, kind sir, not a doubt of it. Very most delighted. How many you like?" Then, seriously, "You
'll have to ask my husband about that. You'll find he can talk to you most knowledgeably about anything that's made or sold from Ortelga to Ikat. He's mad about trade--he believes in it passionately--he calls it the blood that circulates in the body of the world; and many other terms he has for it--especially when he's drinking this Yeldashay wine. Have some more." And again she picked up the flagon. "What is the name of your country?"
"Zakalon. It's very beautiful--the cities are full of flower gardens. I hope one day you'll visit it, if only you can overcome your reluctance to crossing the strait."
"Perhaps. It's little enough traveling I've ever done. Why, I've never even been to Bekla, let alone to Ikat-Yeldashay."
"All the more reason to become the first woman to go to Zakalon. Come and make our ladies jealous. If you like ceremony, you must come for the great--er--midsummer festival, if those are the right words."
"Yes, they are. Well done! Well, perhaps--perhaps. Tell me, sir--"
"Siristrou--saiyett." He smiled. He had just remembered "saiyett."
"Tell me, U-Siristrou, do you intend to remain here for a few days, or are you going to press straight on to Kabin?"
"Why, that's really for the governor to say. But in the first place, obviously, I shall have to see to bringing my men and--and beasts over from--from--er--Belda-Brazet--"
"Bel-ka-Trazet."
"--from Bel-ka-Trazet. And then I myself am not altogether in the best of health after the journey. It will be a few days, I think, before we're ready to start for Kabin. The wilderness and desert were very trying and the men need rest and perhaps a little--I don't know the word--you know, play, drink--"
"Recreation."
"That's it, recreation. Excuse me, I'll write it down."
Smiling, she watched him write, shaking her head.
"Then if you are here five days from now," she said, "you and your men will be able to see our spring festival. It's a very happy occasion. There'll be any amount of--recreation, and a most beautiful ceremony on the shore--at least, it means a lot to us, especially to the children. Shara's Day--that's the time to see the flames of God burning bright as stars."