The opposite wall consisted of nothing more solid than decorative wooden tracery, through which lamplight was shining. From below rose sounds of talk and laughter and the clatter of plates and goblets.
Elvair-ka-Virrion, turning to her with a finger on his lips, led her across to the tracery wall.
Through this Maia, from a height of perhaps thirty feet, found herself looking down into the Lord General's dining-hall. It was less crowded than on the night of the Rains banquet, for Elvair-ka-Virrion had invited no more than sixty or seventy people altogether, men and girls. The serving-tables were spread with food--the mere sight of them, together with the smells of roast meat, vegetables, herbs and sauces, aroused Maia's appetite--and the flower-crowned guests were moving among them for slaves to fill their plates and goblets. Several men had already seated themselves at tables on the dais itself, while others, accompanied by their girls, had strolled further down the hall, forming casual groups. Maia could see Nennaunir, in a saffron robe and a necklace of what looked like real rubies, talking with two young men who were obviously competing for her favors. As she watched, one of them suddenly turned towards the other with a quick look of anger, whereupon Nennaunir burst out laughing, slapped his hand and held out her goblet for him to go and refill.
Elvair-ka-Virrion pointed towards the right-hand side of the dais. Here a little knot of five men were talking among themselves as they sat together round the end of one of the tables. All had long hair gathered behind their necks in the Urtan style, and wore daggers at their belts. In guests from any other part of the empire this last would have been regarded as an insult to their host, but among the Urtans wearing daggers at all times was a custom so obstinately retained that it had become tolerated, so that shearnas were sometimes asked jestingly whether they wore them in bed.
Although the group included no girls, they were plainly enjoying themselves, laughing and talking animatedly and sometimes turning their heads to call out to passers-by or guests at other tables. Suddenly Maia saw Occula (to whom Terebinthia had given a tunic made entirely of overlapping, scarlet feathers, which left her oiled limbs bare except for a pair of belled anklets and a serpentine brass torque on one arm) saunter across to where they were sitting and offer one of them--an older man who looked to be in his mid-thirties--a dripping rib of beef. As she bent and whispered something in his ear he laughed, whereupon she sat down on his knee and, with one arm around his neck, shared the meat with him, from time to time putting her hand on his to turn the bone for the next bite of her gleaming teeth.
Maia, eyebrows raised, turned inquiringly toward Elvair-ka-Virrion, but he shook his head, whispering, "No, that's Eud-Ecachlon, the heir of Urtah."
"Then which?"
"The man on his right; his half-brother."
Maia looked down once more. Beyond Occula's be-feathered, red shoulder she now observed a thin, dark man; rather tall, it seemed. Half a fowl was lying on the dish before him, and as she watched he put down the drumstick he had been gnawing and turned for a moment to speak to Occula. Maia, quick as always to form a first impression, thought she perceived in his manner a kind of detachment, almost distaste. As he looked at the black girl where she sat on Eud-Ecachlon's knee, his rather narrow, unsmiling face had an expression she could only describe to herself as haughty. A clever but humorless man, she thought: tense, highly-strung yet tenacious, not altogether at ease among his companions; for that matter not at ease, perhaps, in the world itself, yet determined to hold his own. He might be twenty-four or twenty-five, but the lamplight and the distance made it hard to judge.
As she watched him talking to Occula--the black girl leaning across to answer him, so that her necklace of teeth hung forward like a row of tiny, curved knives--she noticed something odd. The Urtan sitting on his further side-- a big, good-natured-looking fellow with a fair beard and gold earrings--leant across, took the fowl in one hand and proceeded to slice it with his knife. The dark man glanced towards him with a nod of thanks, then stuck the point of his knife into a piece of the cut-up meat, dipped it in the sauce beside his dish and ate it.
Elvair-ka-Virrion, his face dappled by the light shining through the tracery, again caught her eye, nodded and led her back into the corridor, closing the door silently behind them.
"You'll know him again?"
"Yes, my lord; who is he?"
"His name is Bayub-Otal: he's a natural son of the High Baron of Urtah."
"A natural son?"
"He might very well have had no standing in Urtah at all. He might have been sent away--brought up as a peasant--and no wrong would have been done either to his mother or himself. But she was a great beauty and a much-admired and very charming woman--to say the least. The High Baron loved her passionately--more than he loved his wife, for that was nothing but a political marriage between baronial families. Bayub-Otal's mother was a Suban dancing-girl. When she died--well, never mind how she died--the High Baron was heart-broken. That's why Bayub-Otal's always been treated as though he were a legitimate son. And if it had remained under Urtan dominion, he'd have stood to inherit Suba. He'd been promised Suba: that was what his father intended for him."
This last was of little interest to Maia: but what she had actually seen was.
"That other man--he was cutting up his meat for him?"
"Bayub-Otal has a withered hand. It was--injured, when he was a boy."
As they walked back down the corridor Maia was silent. At length she asked, "What--what sort of a man is he?"
"That I can't tell you, Maia: I've had very little to do with him. They say, though, that he's full of resentment and that he's no fool."
"And I'm to deceive him?"
Elvair-ka-Virrion stopped short and turned to face her.
"Who said that? Not I!"
Half-child as she was, she gave way to a touch of impatience.
"Reckon you did!"
"I did not. Maia, understand, you're simply to make him like you, talk to you, want to see you again--nothing more than that."
"But why, my lord? I mean, what for?"
"Never mind. Trust me, it'll all turn out very much to your advantage. Now I'm going to leave you. Wait here a minute or two, then go down this staircase and Sessendris--you know, my father's saiyett--will be waiting for you. Go in and have supper with the Urtans. Remember, I hardly know you--I've only seen you at Sencho's. Sail your boat well, pretty Maia! I'm sure you can. Thank you for my pleasure. It was much the best I've ever had in my life! I'm not going to spoil it by giving you a lygol, but believe me I'll do far more for you than that one day."
He kissed her unhurriedly, tilting her face between his hands, smiled and was gone.
Sessendris, seated in a cushioned recess opposite the foot of the staircase, looked up at her as she came down the stairs.
"You're becoming quite a regular visitor, Maia."
"Thank you, saiyett. Come to that, I'm beginning to feel quite at home."
She'd best start acting her part directly, she thought. For all that this woman was supposed to know, she had no reason to feel nervous. Rather, indeed, the reverse, for had she not just received a favor with which any slave-girl in Bekla would have been overjoyed?
Sessendris evidently felt this too, for she showed every intention of keeping on the right side of a girl who was so clearly on the way up.
"Is there anything you need before you go in? There's a nice, big mirror in that room over there; and you're welcome to use this comb, if you like--it's my own."
As they walked across the lobby together she went on rather archly, "Well, and which do you like best--the son or the father?"
Maia, turning her head for a moment to look her in the eye, gave her a smile which meant "You surely don't expect me to answer that?"
"No preference?" persisted Sessendris teasingly.
Maia tossed her head. "Spring's nice. So's summer, isn't it?"
The polished silver wall-plaque was, if anything, bigger than the one at the High C
ounselor's. She surveyed herself in it with no little satisfaction. She was wearing a dress of soft, fine wool--blue flecked green, with an open weave. The effect of the pale-green satin under-skirt was to make the wool above it appear of a different shade, lighter and greener than the bodice. Her only jewelry was a necklace of the creamy, dusky-streaked beads of semiprecious stone called eshcarz, which the Ortelgans dived for in the Telthearna and traded in Bekla, together with their rope and feathers.
Sessendris obligingly held a towel for Maia to dry her hands.
"I expect you're feeling pleased, aren't you? I wouldn't be surprised if you received some more favors tonight."
"I'll need to eat something first, saiyett," answered Maia.
"I'm that sharp-set, I'd say no to Shakkarn himself until I've had some supper."
"Of course: you're used to plenty of that at the High Counselor's, I dare say." Sessendris spoke as pleasantly as ever. "I notice your black friend's putting on a little weight, isn't she?"
"Urtans seem to like her, anyway," replied Maia.
"Really?" Sessendris seemed surprised. "How do you know?"
Maia bit her lip. Here was a fine start to a career of adroit deception! And Sessendris must, of course, know of the existence of the upstairs room overlooking the hall.
"Well, Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion said to me as the Urtans had told him they'd heard of her from someone in Thettit, that's all. That's why he asked the High Counselor to let her come tonight."
To this the saiyett replied with a nod, and Maia could only hope that it had sounded convincing.
Strolling unhurriedly through the colonnade and down the steps, she helped herself to a crown of jasmine from a tray held by a slave. Several young men turned to stare at her, but Elvair-ka-Virrion, who was talking with Nennaunir and another girl, did not give her a glance. Going across to the supper tables, she stood demurely on the carpeted dais, letting another slave make her up a plate as he thought fit. Holding this in one hand and a full goblet in the other, she glanced around her, pretended to notice Occula for the first time and went towards the table where the Urtans were sitting.
She walked slowly, for she was feeling rather nervous and wanted to begin by observing the Urtans at closer quarters and if possible weighing them up a little. She noticed at once that of the five, the two older men--Eud-Ecachlon and the dark, detached Bayub-Otal--were obviously of higher rank. Not only were their clothes finer, but there was about them an unmistakable air of accustomed authority, of which the three others were clearly sensible even in the midst of their merriment and high spirits.
Eud-Ecachlon, a man already, to Maia's eyes, middle-aged, was of medium height, rather thick-set, with touches of gray in his hair and beard. Something in his rather slow movements and the steady gaze with which he sat listening to one of the younger men suggested to her someone of stolid dependability--even, it might be, a shade slow; not a quick mind or a natural leader. Without giving the impression of being a fool or not up to his position, he nevertheless had the air of a conventional, perhaps rather uninteresting person, content with and even preferring things as he had always been used to them.
Still, never mind 'bout him, she thought as she drew nearer to the table. It's t'other as matters to me.
Bayub-Otal had also turned towards the young man who was speaking. The sight of him at closer quarters confirmed the notion she had already formed. This was a keener, tenser, more restless character altogether; and also, in some way or other, a man apart. There was, or so she vaguely sensed, something in him awry; a kind of estrangement from natural, spontaneous life, as though if he were to laugh it might be because he thought it appropriate to do so rather than because he could not help it. A kind of invisible veil or screen seemed to lie between himself and his companions. Energetic and clever he certainly looked, yet somehow clouded with--with what? She could not tell, yet her spirits faltered. She knew nothing, she felt, about such men as this. Was he really at all likely to fancy her? She rather doubted it. If he did not, she had no idea of how to go about inclining him to do so.
At this instant Bayub-Otal looked up and saw her. His immediate reaction was so extraordinary and unexpected that she felt actually alarmed. He started violently--though this, as the young fellow opposite reached the riotous cli-max of his anecdote, went unnoticed by his companions-- and then, with one hand gripping the edge of the table, stared at her open-mouthed, with a look not unlike fear-- almost as though he were about to leap up and run away. She, for her part, came to a dead stop, quite disconcerted and not knowing what in the least to do. Gradually, though he continued to stare at her, his features became composed. He looked away for a moment, then once more looked back, slightly shaking his head. Whatever had dismayed him, he evidently now had it under control. She was the one who remained dismayed. Could there be something wrong with her dress or her hair? Had she unknowingly done something indecorous? She couldn't think of anything. Could he be some kind of nervous eccentric-- perhaps even afflicted with fits? If so, why hadn't Elvair-ka-Virrion warned her?
Well, there was no time to wonder. She could only pretend to have noticed nothing and go on. To cover her confusion she greeted Occula first, smiling and embracing her where she sat on Eud-Ecachlon's knee.
"And who's this?" asked Eud-Ecachlon, clearly pleased.
"Maia, from Serrelind. She puts me in the shade," answered Occula. "Doan" you see how dark I've gone? That's with blushin'."
Eud-Ecachlon rubbed his hand along her bare arm. "You must be right. Nothing's come off on me."
"How do you know?" asked Occula, stroking his cheek. She held out her pink palm. "See? It's on you now."
There was a general laugh. "Well, why don't you let Maia from Serrelind sit down?" said Eud-Ecachlon to the rest. "Come on, Haubas," he added, to the big young man sitting on the further side of Bayub-Otal, "move up and make room for her."
Haubas obediently moved along the bench, whereupon Bayub-Otal--perhaps, thought Maia, because he wanted to remain next to the man who Cut up his food--did the same. She sat down between him and Eud-Ecachlon and without more ado fell to work on her supper. She was so hungry that the first gulped mouthful stuck rather uncomfortably in her throat.
"You seem to be ready for that," said another of the young Urtans sitting opposite her. She smiled and nodded, swallowing another large piece of partridge.
"You've only just arrived, haven't you?" asked the man on his left, hardly raising his eyes from her breasts even as he spoke. "I saw you come in."
Soon they were both talking to her with so much animation that she had nothing to do but listen, smile and answer an occasional word. The effect of her beauty was not only to excite them but to make them rather self-conscious and coltish. They laughed a great deal, paid her compliments, teased and contradicted each other, often asked her to corroborate them and continually called the slaves over to serve her with food and wine for which she had not asked. Meanwhile Bayub-Otal, seated on her right, remained silent. Yet it struck Maia that although he was not by nature the sort of man to let himself go, he was nevertheless taking good care not to appear entirely out of accord with the younger men's brash high spirits. It was clear that they respected him and accepted his watchful, attentive manner as his own way of being in their company. Whenever someone addressed a remark to him, he replied readily and pleasantly enough, once turning a sally against the man who had made it. Maia noticed, however, that he said almost nothing except in answer to somebody else; nor did he speak directly to either Occula or herself.
"He's sharp enough to hold his own," she thought, "but far as I can see he's kind of got something on his mind. Reckon Kembri's picked the wrong girl. Don't seem like he's one to have his head turned in a hurry. All same, I'll have to have a go."
At this moment, however, Bayub-Otal asked her quietly, "How old are you? Young enough not to mind being asked--I can see that."
In point of fact Maia was, of course, so young as to resent being asked. Just in time
she choked back the kind of retort she would have made in Meerzat. Leaning towards him and speaking as though she were telling him something confidential, she replied in an equally low voice, "I'm fifteen, my lord."
"Fifteen?" He paused. "You're sure of that?"
She laughed. "Well, of course. I'll be sixteen in a few days, actually."
"And how long have you been in Bekla? You come from Tonilda, your friend said?"
"Not very long. Yes, I come from Lake Serrelind."
"I was there once: I went sailing on the lake with a friend."
"Then I may have seen you, my lord. I used to swim in the lake a fair old bit."
"I should certainly remember if I'd seen you."
Yet it was said without a smile or any particular warmth, and Maia felt puzzled. A moment later he had turned to Haubas on his other side and the two men opposite were at her again. Occula had slid off Eud-Ecachlon's knee and was now sitting beside him, eating grapes and wiping the pips with the back of her hand from between her soft, thick lips.
It was plain that one of the young men was growing tipsy and not altogether pleasant with it.
"Where do you come from?" he asked suddenly, grinning at Occula in a provocative, taunting manner.
"Nowhere in the empire, I'll bet: unless it's Zeray."
"No, a bit further than Zeray," replied Occula. "I shan't be endin' up there, either. Will you?"
"Taken in war, then, were you?" asked the young man. "Your lot ran away, did they, and left you for the Beklans? Any regrets?"
Eud-Ecachlon, shaking his head, seemed about to remonstrate, but as he hesitated Occula spoke first.
Her voice was conciliatory, low and pleasant, but Maia, knowing her so well, could sense her controlled anger, like the twitching of a cat's tail.
"People always regret leavin' me. Sometimes they regret teasin' me, too; but only when I decide I've had enough."
"Hoo, what a lot of words!" answered the young man, with a kind of sneering laugh. "That supposed to be clever?"
"Ka-Roton," interjected Bayub-Otal quickly, "don't be stupid!" His tone contained no surprise, and Maia wondered whether Ka-Roton commonly gave this kind of trouble after a few cups of wine.