"Old Drigga used to say 'Everything looks worse to tired eyes.' I'll make you some hot wine with honey. The fire's still in." Maia stood up.
"It mustn' go wrong now," whispered Occula, rocking backwards and forwards where she sat. "O Kantza-Mer-ada, remember thy faithful servants robbed and murdered! Give me thy power only a little longer! Kantza-Merada, give me thy power!"
She slipped to the floor and knelt there with bent head; the spread out her arms, palms downward on the floor on either side of her body; and so remained, as though waiting for some answer from the grim, black image above her on the bed. Maia, not knowing what more to say, folded her hands in her lap and waited.
At length Occula rose to her feet, blew out the lamp and stood motionless, facing the barred window. As Maia's eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, she could see clearly the square of night sky, twinkling here and there with the faint points of stars. There was silence except for a gentle patting of wind.
Suddenly a wild shriek, savage and fierce, tore through the stillness. Hard upon it came the short, cut-off squeal of some small creature stricken and seized. Maia started back against the wall, but Occula made no least move. A few moments later the dark shape of the owl, clutching its prey, flew silently across the window-space and vanished.
Occula spoke in her normal voice. "Get me the wine, then, banzi: and after that I'll go to bed." Then, as Maia hesitated, "Go on, before the fire's out. Bread, too! I'm damn' hungry!"
When Maia came back, carrying the bread and wine in
one hand and a newly-lighted lamp in the other, Occula had put the image away, but was still standing at the window. Turning, she smiled and took the wine-cup from Maia's hand.
"That's good enough for me, banzi! I would be a fool, wouldn' I, not to trust in-" She broke off.
"Not to trust?" asked Maia hesitantly. She was feeling somewhat shaken.
"A sign-an omen-as plain as that."
Maia shook her head in bewilderment. Occula laughed and kissed her.
"You doan' understand? So much the better for you!" Then, with a complete return to her normal manner, "Never mind! Just forget every bit of it! Listen; I'll tell you somethin' else-nothin' to do with owls. D'you remember Zuno and his white pussy-cat?"
"Yes, 'course."
"And how I said I'd do him a bit of good if ever I got the chance, all along of those robbers on the road between Hirdo and Khasik? Well, I reckon I've done it, like as not."
"Get away?" replied Maia, surprised. "I never thought you really meant it."
Occula, munching, sipped the hot wine.
"Elvair-ka-Virrion-t'other night-I never told you. He was sayin' that apparently the Sacred Queen's lookin' for a new household steward. The last man-she was angry with him. Lucky to get off with his life, Elvair-ka-Virrion said."
"What had he done, then?"
"Playin' around with one her girls. So I upped and said that Lalloc had this very superior young man in his employ, natural gift of authority, well-spoken and all that, who'd never want to touch the girls. And Elvair-ka-Virrion said that as it happened he was goin' down to see Lalloc about buyin' a lad to look after his hounds, so while he was there he'd just have a look at Master Zuno and possibly recommend him to Fornis."
"I wonder you was at the trouble," said Maia, recalling how they had trudged beside the jekzha in the burning sun.
"Oh, banzi," answered Occula, gulping down the last of the wine and climbing into bed, "it's not a question of likin' him; though I must admit I doan' altogether dislike
him. But that's the sort of fellow who'll be able to keep his head, even in a household like the Sacred Queen's. And if he's pleased and she's pleased, you never know when he might not be able to do us a bit of good." She paused. "That's if anythin's goin' to be able to do me good. But I doan' mind now. Where Kantza-Merada went, I can go." She laughed. "Huntin' in the dark, I mean. 'Do not question the laws of the nether world.' Did old Kembri baste you again, then?"
Maia smiled. "No, but I got a lygol all the same. O great Cran, and I've just remembered-I never told Terebinthia I'd got back. I must go and find Ogma-"
"How long have you been back, Maia?" Terebinthia was standing in the doorway.
Maia raised her palm to her forehead. "A little while, I'm afraid, saiyett: I'm ever s' sorry! Only I found Occula taken bad, see, and that put it out of my head. But here's the governor's lygol."
Terebinthia, taking it from her, put it into her sleeve unopened. "What's the matter with you, then, Occula?"
"Nothin', saiyett. I've just been sick, that's all. Somethin' at dinner, I s'pose. I was just goin' to bed-unless there's anythin' you want."
"No," replied Terebinthia rather absently. "Maia, have you ever mentioned Milvushina to Lord Elvair-ka-Vir-rion?"
"No, saiyett: I haven't seen Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion at all since the night Milvushina was brought here."
"Well," said Terebinthia, "you'd better understand this, Maia. The High Counselor doesn't wish anything to be said outside about how Milvushina came to be here. If I learn that you've been gossiping, I shall be extremely angry, do you see?"
"Yes, saiyett. I won't say nothing."
"I've just been telling Milvushina herself the same thing. She's to say nothing to anyone of how she came here, on pain of the most severe punishment. Now listen to me. Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion has asked for you to go to a party at the Barons' Palace tomorrow night, and he wants Milvushina to go with you. I wasn't aware that he even knew of her existence. In the normal way I certainly wouldn't permit it, but the fact is that Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion was- er-well, very generous and very pressing. So I've decided
to let you both go. No doubt there'll be generous lygols if you do well."
"Thank you, saiyett."
"Now it's time both of you were asleep. Milvushina's in bed already."
"Is Dyphna back yet, saiyett?" asked Occula innocently.
"Dyphna? Tomorrow," replied Terebinthia; and was gone.
"Cran and Airtha! She's goin' to slip up one of these days, banzi; she's bound to," whispered Occula. "Piggy'll find out she's featherin' her nest on the quiet and have her hangin' upside-down as sure as a cow can fart."
"Either that or she'll make her fortune," said Maia. "Elvair-ka-Virrion must have slipped her a hell of a lot to let Milvushina go out. Old Sencho'd never dream of allowing that if he knew."
"She must be better off than ever Domris was, right now this minute. Just think, every time one of us gets basted- oh, well. Why doan' I stop talkin' and go to sleep?"
"Think you will now?"
"Sounder than a tree in winter. Good-night, pretty banzi."
37: THE SENGUELA
The early afternoon sun, slanting through the trees, shone on the bushes, the long, wet grass and patches of red-brown soil, drawing up a fresh-smelling warmth from the floor of the Tonildan glade. Close by, in a thicket, a green-breast, with many pauses, was letting fall one slow, clear phrase after another; its song, in the silence, as joyous and untroubled as though there were no harm or danger in all the world. Winged flies, survivors of the previous summer, roused from the bark crevices or subterranean cells where they had sheltered through the rains, glittered in the soft air; many, in their first, unwary flutterings, snapped up by the pouncing sparrows. High above, in the newly-revealed, blue sky, a buzzard hovered, waiting to drop upon any small creature decrepit or injured, slow-witted, or simply deceived into momentary inattention by the benediction of returning spring.
Brown and spare, the young pedlar Zirek, stripped to the waist in the sunshine, stood leaning against a tree-
trunk, one knee bent and foot raised as he scraped with a pointed stick at the mud caked on his boot. His pack lay in the grass near-by and across it he had thrown his white-striped jacket and scarlet leather hat.