Stopping beside Maia, Bayub-Otal half-sat on the edge of the table and stared down at her bleakly, covering his mutilated hand with his other sleeve.
"But if you were the rightful heir of Suba, my lord," said Maia, "then why-" She stopped, overcome with embarrassment. Would he give her the same answer as Kem-bri? How did he see it? she could not help wondering.
"Why haven't they killed me? That's what you mean, isn't it?"
She nodded dumbly.
"Oh, no, Maia; why bother to make a martyr, when you've already got something much better-an ineffective, contemptible loser on public display? The High Baron's bastard son, who can't even draw a bow or cut up a chicken?-a fellow not worth the killing; unless he starts making a nuisance of himself, of course. Perhaps if I were to cross the Valderra into Suba-oh, yes, if I were just to go home, as any ordinary man's free to go-that might be grounds for putting me to death, I dare say. But the dancing-girl's dispossessed son, a man who can't even see any way to avenge his own honor, left free to kick his heels-
to take to drink, perhaps, or chasing worthless girls; to be a laughing-stock behind his back-"
Maia was genuinely moved to see tears in his eyes. She put a hand on his arm.
"What's the good, my lord? Trouble-the whole world's full of trouble; worse nor yours, and mine too. But we're here in a clean, warm room. We're not hungry or cold or ill. You've money, and wine-yes, and me, too, if you want. Far as we know, neither of us is goin' to die just yet. There's thousands as that'd be more than enough for."
He touched her forehead with his lips. "Yes, of course."
"Listen, my lord. There's a girl with me now in the High Counselor's house. You talk about loss and trouble-"
She began to tell him about Milvushina, but after a time he stopped her, resuming his restless pacing.
"Strange things happen, don't they? An enslaved girl's loved honorably for years, by a High Baron; and a baron's daughter's enslaved and becomes the victim of a filthy libertine."
" 'Tis all a dream, my lord. That's what old Drigga used to say-her as told the stories back home. When Lespa wakes us-"
"Now do you understand why I don't feel inclined to go to bed with you-or with any girl? Do you think I'd buy a girl's body, or compel a girl to bed with me, after what I've told you; yes, and after what you've just told me? This whole city's full of wretched girls yielding to men because they've no choice. And wouldn't those men love to see me become as dissolute as themselves?"
"You take it too hard, my lord, that you do. It's pleasure and comfort, after all. Where's the harm, long as the girl's willing-?"
"Yes, for a lygol!" He spat the word. "Where's the dignity, the sincerity, in what they're doing?" He pointed upward. "Where my father bedded, there he loved. And where he loved, there he honored and cherished." His voice rose. "I'm speaking of the sense of responsibility that ought to go with desire for a woman."
"And d'you know what I reckon, my lord? I reckon you're just cutting off your nose to spite your face. There's thousands have lost everything and had to make the best of what's left. You should, too."
"I wilclass="underline" when Suba's free. I have a sacred duty to my people, you see. But that's enough of such talk." He smiled
into her eyes, his pale, rather fine features (did he take something after his mother? she wondered) seeming to express amusement at the futility of his own outburst. "You told me you dance, sometimes. Will you dance for me now?"
"Oh, I'd not have the face, my lord; not after what you told me-about your mother, I mean."
"If I were to tell you to take off your clothes and go to bed with me, I suppose you'd raise no objection at all. Yet you're reluctant just to dance. I find that rather depressing."
"One's difficult and I'd do it badly. "Pother's easy and I'd do it well."
"All in a day's work, eh?"
• "I know how to give pleasure, my lord. Ask anyone you like! You can start with Lord Eud-Ecachlon, and-"
"I don't think I'll bother," interrupted Bayub-Otal bleakly. "But I will trouble you to dance for me: I've a particular reason. Please go and ask them to send in a hinnarist."
Maia could only obey. When she returned Haubas, Ka-Roton and the two shearnas had come back downstairs. As they lolled half-dressed in one corner of the room, yawning and barely attentive, Maia did her best to tell the accompanist what she wanted and then, sadly devoid of any real confidence, entered upon the reppa of the sen-guela, which depicted Lespa's apotheosis to become the consort of Shakkarn and divine mistress of stars and dreams.
As she danced, unable for a moment to discard her awareness of the inadequate space, of the spent, drowsy Urtans and the indifferent hinnarist with whom she had not rehearsed, Maia had never felt so clumsy, so incapable of forgetting herself or of becoming in her heart the god-. dess whom she was supposed to be representing. She had forgotten to ask for the floor to be swept, and once, treading unexpectedly on a broken nutshell, she stumbled and could barely control a cry of pain. Yet Bayub-Otal, watching gravely, gave no sign of disappointment. As she came to the close-the beautiful, beneficent young goddess gazing down upon her sleeping earth-people between the clouds invisibly spread below her-dismally aware that she was two beats ahead of the hinnari, she felt full of chagrin. It was the first time she had danced for anyone but Occula, and a sorry go she had made of it.
"Maia," said Bayub-Otal after a few moments, "I can tell what you're feeling. Will you believe me if I tell you that you're a great deal better than you suppose? Given the opportunity, I'll prove it to you before much longer."
She made no reply, but he seemed to expect none and, having paid and dismissed the hinnarist, opened a shutter upon the Caravan Market.
"It's late," he said, as the clock-lanterns opened and shone for midnight, "but there's still no rain for the moment. You have to go back to the upper city, don't you? I'll go with you as far as the Peacock Gate. Then you can take the jekzha on and I'll walk back."
Out of the tail of her eye, Maia saw Haubas glance at Ka-Roton and Ka-Roton shrug.
"Just as you wish, my lord."
They went out into the colonnade while the landlord's boy ran for a jekzha. As they were getting into it Maia caught a glimpse, in the shadows, of a solitary girl-no doubt the same one whose importuning voice she had heard earlier in the evening. She looked haggard, dingy and considerably older than Maia.
"Is that your lygol?" asked Terebinthia grimly. "Are you sure you haven't been tampering with it?"
"When did I ever tamper with a lygol, saiyett?" said Maia. "They're Urtans. Why do I have to go with them?"
"You needn't again," replied Terebinthia, "if they can't do better than that."
36: A SIGN FOR OCCULA
"When are you going to take the field, then?" asked Du-rakkon. With any luck, he thought, and if Melekril were really ending (for sometimes the rainy season would appear to be over, only to resume for as long as two weeks), Kembri might leave Bekla within the next few days and remain several months with the army.
He wondered, not for the first time, what good he had ever done anyone throughout the empire by seizing the lordship of Bekla. As for himself, fear and anxiety never left him. He was surrounded by and dependent upon men
whom he disliked and despised-men who had corrupted the city and alienated many parts of the provinces. Day in and day out, simply to maintain power, he lent his name to a regime of intrigue, double-dealing and subterfuge. He had accomplished nothing of what he had first intended: this bore no resemblance-none-r-to the benevolent rule with which he had planned to replace Senda-na-Say's.