"D'you think perhaps the Terekenalters may have found out she knew, and thrown her in to drown, but somehow or other she just didn't?"
"Well, you can think that by all means, but if I were you I shouldn't be heard saying it. The whole city's crazy about the girl. One of my tanners actually told me he believed she was Lespa come down to save the empire. Made her fortune? Great Cran, she's made her fortune all right! They'd give her the stars if they could!"
"Well, what does she say happened?"
"Sarget told me she's never said a word about it to anyone in the upper city: so probably no one ever will know precisely what happened."
"Oh, how I'd love to see her!" said Selperron. "Just to be able to say I had, back in Kabin, you know."
"I doubt you'll have the chance," replied N'Kasit. "It's not as if it were the spring festival, you see, or the Sacred Queen's birth ceremony. There's not a great deal to bring upper city people down here at this time of year."
"Is she living with one of the Leopards, or what?"
"No; I'm told she hasn't taken a man since she got back. But everyone's expecting her to make a wealthy marriage as soon as she feels ready. She could have anyone she likes, you see, but for the moment she's probably in no hurry. After all, the Council voted her a house, and money,
and Cran knows what besides. I believe the army would have mutinied if they hadn't. Half the officers are said to be wild about her and I don't know that I so very much blame them. After all, they wouldn't have lasted long, would they, if Karnat had got to Bekla?"
During the days that followed, the thought of the miraculous Tonildan whose lonely heroism had saved the empire kept recurring to Selperron. She must be a most remarkable, girl. What did she look like, he wondered, and what could be the real truth behind her incredible exploit? Had she ever been in love? What sort of a girl was she really, alone or among her friends, behind her radiant guise of a savior princess so dazzling that simple folk could actually see her as Lespa incarnate?
"Just suppose," he thought, awake in bed one morning before N'Kasit's servant had come in to call him, "just suppose I happened to meet her, what would I say to her? And what would she say to me, I wonder? I'm not really all that old: forty's no age."
He tried to imagine the Tonildan girl breasting the cataract in the roaring darkness, the whole fate of the empire resting on her shoulders as she struggled on. Suppose it had been he who had pulled her out on the bank, he who had first perceived that she was telling the truth and ordered that she should be taken at once to General Sen-dekar? Sighing, he heaved himself out of bed and began to dress. Tomorrow he had to start the journey home.
"N'Kasit's a good friend," he thought. "I must slip off on my own and buy him a present today-a good 'un, ay. He's really done me very well and I've had a fine time up here. Only I can't help wishing I'd just seen the Tonildan girl. People in Kabin are sure to ask, when I get back."
That afternoon he accompanied N'Kasit to his warehouse. This lay high up in the lower city, south of the Tower of Sel-Dolad and actually abutting on the western ramparts. Like almost every building in Bekla it was of stone, its long rows of recessed bays cool and dusky, the whole place echoing whenever a door slammed or a crate was grounded by the winch. Selperron could not help envying his friend these solid, well-appointed premises which, compared with his own at Kabin, seemed so secure against fire and robbery.
"I only rent the place, of course," said N'Kasit, in reply to his admiring remarks. "And quite enough it costs me,
too. But you know how important it is to keep up an appearance of prosperity-even more here than in Kabin. Can't make money without spending it, can you?"
"Who's the landlord?" asked Selperron.
"It used to be the High Counselor. He owned half the city-or so you'd have thought. He left no heir, of course, so all his property's been taken over by the temple. I don't know whether they'll sell me this place-I've made them an offer-but in point of fact it's the Sacred Queen I'm paying rent to now. So I shouldn't think the temple sees much of that, would you?"
Before Selperron could hear more about this interesting state of affairs, however, the quartermasters of the Be-lishban and Lapanese regiments-whom N'Kasit had been expecting-made their appearance and began discussing such matters as shoe-leather, helmets and shield-facings. As N'Kasit got up to conduct them through the warehouse and show them the various qualities of leather in stock Selperron, taking his opportunity, slipped away as he had planned, merely telling his friend that he would see him back at home for supper.
He had already decided that N'Kasit's hospitality-to say nothing of his own business prospects in the capital- called for nothing less than some kind of gold artifact as a farewell present, and accordingly he made his way downhill towards the Sheldad-the thoroughfare running westward from the Caravan Market-out of which branched the streets of the goldsmiths' and jewelers' quarters. Although he was carrying a considerable sum in coin he was not afraid of robbery, for the streets were well frequented in the cooling afternoon, he did not look a particularly wealthy or likely victim and his business was going to be transacted behind the locked door of a reputable dealer to whom he had been recommended in Kabin.
He was still some way short of the side-street leading to his destination when he became aware of some sort of commotion in front of him, apparently near the point where the Sheldad ran into the Caravan Market. He stopped, looking ahead rather nervously, for after N'Kasit's account of the troubles in the spring he had no wish to find himself caught up in a riot or a street-fight. He hoped, too, that it would not turn out to be prisoners or criminals being led through the streets (for to his credit Selperron was sensitive and hated the kind of ugly jeering and mob cru-
elty that commonly took place at such times). In a few moments, however, he realized that whatever else it might be, this occasion was neither brutal nor violent. The clamor ahead was plainly some sort of acclamation. It had a happy quality, as if those shouting were taking part in some kind of shared delight, such as a homecoming or a wedding. People began running past him, some calling out to others in front. Selperron, excited, ran too, jostling along with the rest.
"What is it?" he panted to an old woman whom he found beside him. "What's all the fuss about, grandmother?"
Beaming, she turned her wrinkled face towards him and toothlessly mumbled something that sounded like "Share flinders." Selperron, mystified, elbowed his way on, finally coming out into the sanded space of the market. He looked about, but could still see very little over the heads of those around him. Suddenly he realized that he was standing beside the plinth of the brazen scales of Fleitil-one of the wonders of the city, which could weigh an ox, a cart and its contents without unloading-and all in a moment had scrambled up it as nimbly as any street lad. A green-uniformed market official shouted angrily to him to come down, but Selperron ignored him, clambering round the plinth to gaze in the direction of the excitement-whatever it might be.
Across the sanded expanse of the market was approaching a jekzha, drawn by two soldiers of the Beklan regiment, resplendent in their undress uniform of scarlet surcoats with silver lacing and Leopard cognizances, but such a jekzha! Its workmanship was so delicate and fine as to create the illusion of a kind of celestial car, lighter than air, floating on the ground as a bubble on a stream. The doors, as well as the foot-rail and screen, all made of gold filigree, put Selperron in mind of the sparkle of gossamer on a clear autumn morning. The slender spokes of the wheels were painted alternately red and blue, so that in turning they merged to form a flickering, vivid purple. From the top of the canopy rose long, bronze-colored plumes-whether of eagle, heart-bird or kynat he could not tell. Nor, for the matter of that, did he spend much time glancing at them, for his eyes were drawn elsewhere as a needle to the north.