When she had eaten the few mouthfuls that were her share of supper, she wrapped herself in her cloak and lay down to sleep. Yet tired out as she was, sleep would not come. She was hungry; her head ached; her belly hurt. Her flux had come on strongly and there was nothing clean or dry to put between her legs. But these discomforts were as nothing compared with her terror of the forest and the thought of the morrow. I can't go on, she thought. Even if no one'll come with me, I'll go back to the farm alone. Yet she knew very well that she could not attempt it.
The active night was full of wild, disturbing cries. From somewhere far off sounded a many-voiced clamor which must, she thought, be the howling of wolves. As she lay listening to this and trying to guess how distant it might be, there came from close by a deep, mewling cough, repeated several times. She turned faint with fear. At supper-parties in the upper city she had once or twice listened to Beklan hunters' stories of the great cats. An armed man, someone had told her, stood iio least chance against one of these creatures, and hunters invariably left them alone in their wild, forest territories, which, he had added, it was their nature to defend fiercely against intruders.
Looking out into the darkness she could see, here and there, eyes reflecting the firelight-some glowing red, others white or green. There seemed a continual coming and going of eyes between the trees. They were being watched. How could these watchers be anything but hostile? And they themselves-what could they do against them? Nothing; and this was the worst of her fear. Danger is far harder to bear when one can neither retaliate nor fly.
Meris was sleeping as soundly as a child. How strangely contradictory people often were, thought Maia. Meris, the agent of so much pointless, destructive trouble, had been composed and cooperative all day; unsmiling, but also uncomplaining and performing promptly whatever was asked of her. Probably the men felt less encumbered by Meris than by herself.
Zirek was on watch, pacing slowly up and down on the opposite side of the fire as he looked out into the darkness. In one hand he was carrying his bow and an arrow, but seemed not so much tense as simply wary. On impulse she got up and walked round to him, conscious of the fouled cloth chafing between her legs. He nodded and smiled but said nothing.
"Zirek," she whispered, "how are we going to get out of this?"
He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.
"Why, your chap's going to get us out, isn't he?"
"My chap?" She was vexed. She did not,want teasing.
"Well, the man you love, then. But he has been your lover, even if he isn't now."
"Oh, don't be silly, Zirek! It really makes me angry to hear you go on like that. Why, he hates me! He thinks I tricked him and deceived him."
"Maybe he does: but he's still in love with you, even if he wishes he wasn't."
"How do you know that? He's never told you so, I'm sure."
"No, but I can tell. A man can tell, you know.".
"How?"
"I don't know, but you can." He paused. "Well, for a start, the way you treated each other at the farm."
"But Anda-Nokomis-he's just as angry with me for swimming the river."
"I know, but he hasn't been your lover. He's just in love with you: that's different."
"What? Zirek, whatever do you mean? I never heard such nonsense!"
"Funny, isn't it, how men can see things women can't? And sometimes the other way round. But I'd bet all I've got; which isn't much, unless we ever get to Santil. If only we can get to Santil, though, I reckon I'll be made for life. He might even give me some sort of estate, I dare say."
"Will you marry Meris, then?"
He looked at her sidelong and winked. "Pretty girl, isn't she?" Then, briskly, "But we were talking about you, Maia, not about me. Your Katrian, he's a good lad. I trust him, anyway. He's got plenty of guts and he's no fool. I'm sure he will get us through this damned place, somehow or other." He shoved the heaviest log a couple of feet further into the fire with his foot and added some sticks
to make a brighter blaze. "Besides, he's still in love with you, so he's bound to."
Suddenly, about eighty yards away from the trees, something squealed in agony. It was the death-cry of some fairly large animal-monkey, orjtvda, perhaps, or creeping hak-kukar. They both waited unspeaking, but nothing followed-only the resumption of the swarming babble all about them.
"And that's why I personally believe he is going to get us out of it," said Zirek. "Or you are, or someone is. Because that's what the gods intend, you see. They've put it into our hearts. We shan't die. We've allof us got much too much motive for staying alive."
"Even Meris?"
"Meris? She's got more motive than all the rest of us put together."
"What's that, then?"
"To be basted by more men than any girl yet. Do you know, she even managed to have a few while we were hiding in the warehouse? Malendik, of course; and even N'Kasit, now and again. But others, too. I was always terrified she was going to get us caught, only somehow she never quite did."
He looked up at the scatter of stars visible above the clearing. Then, turning aside and making as though to rake the fire with his wooden spear, he asked, "Did you know it was me that gave the information about Tharrin?"
"About Tharrin? To Sencho, you mean?"
"Well, Tharrin was-he meant something to you once, didn't he?"
"How did you know?"
"Oh, pedlars hear everything, you know; and people in Meerzat are no blinder than anywhere else. I've often felt very bad about Tharrin. But you see, I had to give some sort of worthwhile information to Sencho if I was going to keep him convinced that I really was a Leopard agent. And anyway, the plain truth was that Tharrin had as good as done for himself before ever I spoke a word."
"It doesn't matter now," she said. "Not any more it doesn't."
"I'd warned him to get out," went on Zirek, "but he was always such a fool. Tharrin-he never really understood what he'd taken on, you know. It was all just a matter of easy money-kind of a game-to him; until the day he
found it wasn't, I suppose. 'Oh, I'm a master of cunning!' he said to me once. Cran! That was about the last damn' thing he was! Santil had already come to see him as a liability-he could never keep his mouth shut, you see. All the same, I've been very sorry, Maia. I wanted to tell you and get it off my chest."
"It doesn't matter now-not any more," she said again. "Tharrin-if he hadn't 'a done for himself one way he'd 'a done it another; I c'n see that now. But Bekla-Sen-cho-the Leopards-it's all so far away now, isn't it?"
"Not for Occula it isn't. She's pledged herself to her goddess, you know, to revenge her father; to revenge him or die. I was there, in Thettit, when she did it. I believe she'll succeed, too."
"I pray for Occula night and morning," she answered. He nodded: then raised her hand to his lips for a moment.
"I reckon my watch is finished and more than finished. The demon pedlar's given good value, as usuaclass="underline" I'm going to wake the young master. Why don't you get some sleep now, Maia? It's a short enough night and you'll need it all tomorrow. There isn't really anything to be afraid of, you know. None of those bastards out there's going to come any nearer, and we've plenty of wood to last till morning."
She gave him a quick kiss on each cheek and went back to her place. Her head still ached, but she felt in better spirits for their talk. Yet how strange-what he had said of Zen-Kurel and Anda-Nokomis! She couldn't tell what to make of it. Both the forest clamor and the eyes were still as present as ever, yet now she was so tired that she was past all caring. They can eat me in my sleep, she thought; I wouldn't even bother to wake. Soon she was sleeping as soundly as any healthy sixteen-year-old in the world.