"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 Qccula 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.
"Well, hardly, I should say," replied Occula, smiling. "Why doan' we-"
"You should say!" interrupted Ka-Roton. "A black girl! Cran preserve us!"
As he spoke he swirled the wine in his goblet, and by mischance a few drops spattered over Occula's bare arm. Eud-Ecachlon, bending forward, grasped him by the wrist, but Ka-Roton jerked it away.
"How d'you keep her in order, this black leopard?" he asked Maia. He had, she now noticed, a gap between his top front teeth, in which a shred of meat had remained stuck.
"I don't," answered Maia. "She keeps me in order."
"You look much less of a savage. You're the one I fancy." He picked his teeth for a moment, then leant forward and squeezed one of her breasts.
"You're right: I'm the savage one," said Occula suddenly and sharply. "If I wanted to I could make you stab yourself to the heart!"
Ka-Roton slapped his thigh and roared with laughter. "I'd like to see you try!"
"Would you really?" replied Occula. "Like to bet two hundred meld on it?"
"Have you got two hundred meld?" asked the young man contemptuously.
Both Eud-Ecachlon and Bayub-Otal seemed to have
abandoned any further notion of controlling the conversation, though they were listening intently. Occula's manner had compelled everyone's attention.
"Yes, I have," answered Occula. "You accept, then, do you?"
"Certainly, if you're such a fool as to want to throw your money away," said the young man. "I don't know what you've got in mind, but I warn you-"
Occula laid a hand on his shoulder. "Well, doan' run away, then, will you?"
Thereupon she stood up and made her way across the hall to where Elvair-ka-Virrion was sitting. Maia could see them in conversation, Occula smiling and gesturing, Elvair-ka-Virrion evidently asking several questions and nodding at her replies. At length he beckoned to a slave, gave some instructions and then, as the latter accompanied Occula out of the hall, resumed his conversation with the man beside him.
A minute or two later the slave returned and, helped by two others, began putting out several of the lamps.
Throughout supper the hall had been bright with lamplight-brighter, indeed, than was customary at the High Counselor's. Now, as the lamps went out by ones and twos until only about a quarter of those in the hall were left burning, Maia felt a tremor of apprehension; half exciting, as though someone were about to begin a tale of ghosts or demons; but half disturbingly real-an onset of anxiety and foreboding. What had Occula arranged with Elvair-ka-Virrion? The young Urtan had angered her; and Maia knew her well enough to feel trepidation. She remembered the previous occasions when she had seen Occula angry- at Puhra, and in Lalloc's depot on the night when they had arrived in Bekla. Yet what possible scope for violence could she have here, a slave-girl among the aristocracy of the upper city? That Occula could be both impulsive and tempestuous she had seen: so far she had always got away with it; had always just skirted the brink of self-destructive rashness. Part of the admiration and affection which Maia felt for her stemmed from the knowledge that she had always been ready to run real risks whenever she felt herself to have been slighted; and from the fear that one day, doing it once too often, she might herself be swept away in the fury welling up like blood from the wound still
unhealed in the daughter of Silver Tedzhek enslaved among barbarians.
She felt herself on the point of getting up to go and beg Elvair-ka-Virrion to call Occula back, to tell her not to go on with it-whatever it might be. Yet she did not. Even now, in her absence, Occula's ascendancy prevailed. It wasn't for the likes of her to interfere with Occula. If Occula was about to destroy them botli-for what would become of herself without her?-then it must be so. She remained seated among the Urtans, saying nothing, yet full of uneasy misgiving.