He was talking down to her, but she didn't mind. To her, now, he seemed just a nice old man. He'd taken a fancy to her-people often did-and, being a great lord, was indulging that fancy for a few minutes before setting out on his dismal business.
"My lord! Oh, I know how much you must have to think about just now, but can I-can I make a request of you, seeing as you've been so kind as to stop and speak to me?"
"What is it?"
"It's about-it's about the hostages, my lord. Them as Queen Forms has got, I mean."
"The hostages?" His manner became suddenly grave and,tense. "What about the hostages?"
"One of the Katrian officers, my lord; his name's Zen-Kurel. He was-he was kind to me while I was in Suba. If-if you can only save him-"
"Maia, we're going to save every one of the hostages if we can. No one's got better reason than I have, I assure you."
As her brimming eyes met his, she felt sure that he had guessed her secret. Yet intuitively she knew that he didn't regard her as a traitor for falling in love with an enemy of Bekla. In some strange way the two of them were accomplices: in his heart also there lay something-whatever it might be-which meant far more to him than the Leopards and his public position.
"I must be going now, Maia. Zen-Kurel of Katria; I'll remember that name. But will you grant me a request, too?" He was smiling again. Was this a joke? How should she answer?
"Why, yes, my lord; of course."
"They call you 'the luck of the city,' you know. The gods love you; everyone knows that. Perhaps you'll be so gracious as to give me a keepsake, for luck. I rather think we may be going to need all the luck we can get."
Gran alive! Whatever had she got with her that was fit to give to the High Baron? To accompany Nasada she had dressed very simply, without jewels, for he was always so plainly dressed himself. She felt at a complete loss. Then, suddenly, she remembered King Karnat and the golden lilies: that had worked all right.
"I'll be honored, my lord."
Deliberately, the Serrelinda stepped forward, drew the High Baron of Bekla's dagger from its sheath and with it cut off a thick curl from the golden mass round her shoulders. She replaced the dagger, knelt to kiss his hand and at the same time closed it on the curl. Then she stood up, raised her palm and climbed back into her jekzha. Thus was born another of the legends told of her long afterwards.
Lokris was already gone: presumably, not knowing how long the Serrelinda and the High Baron might stay talking,
she had decided that she might, get back quicker on foot. Maia remained where she was, watching until the Beklan regiment had formed columns and left the market-place. For longer than fifty years, in the event, she remembered how she had seen the High Baron march out to die. She must have been the last woman he ever spoke to-except for one.
80: SHEND-LADOR'S STORY
"-And that was the most shameful thing I've ever seen," said Shend-Lador.
It was the third night after the departure of Durakkon to westward and of the levies to Kembri in Lapan. Bekla seemed dulled and muted. Trade had declined, and all the lower city bustle that went with it. Hospitality and entertainment had dwindled too. Maia had scarcely been out, except to visit Nennaunir, whom she found in low spirits because Sednil had not been able to escape the levy.
It was strange to see the Peacock Wall sentinelled by old watchmen instead of soldiers; and strange, too, to see relays of porters filing up to the citadel laden with provisions. It was as though the city were holding its breath, listening and waiting; and this tension was heightened by the heat of late summer.
"This is no season for campaigning, you know, saiyett," Jarvil-an old soldier-had remarked to Maia. "No good'll come of it, you see."
"But it's the same for both sides," she answered.
"Oh, maybe, saiyet, maybe; but all the same, no good'll come of it, either way. It's not the right thing for men to be out campaigning, not at harvest-time."
Unnatural, she thought; unpropitious, unlucky. Yet still the comet burned: she was still safe. If only there had been a friend to talk to, confide in! If only there were some news!
Shend-Lador, therefore, when he came, she had received most gladly. When Ogma entered to announce him, she had been struggling once again with "The Deeds of Deparioth." She laid the scroll aside and jumped up eagerly.
He was leaner and browner, and his clothes were more carelessly worn than in the old days. Yet he was the sort
of uncomplicated young man who, without particularly considering the matter, holds it virtually a point of honor always to behave in a light-hearted, cheerful manner. He would have been ashamed for anyone ever to see him looking gloomy, except perhaps at a funeral or some similar occasion. No doubt he had joked his way through the whole Chalcon campaign and done his best to keep his men's spirits up through everything.
"I hope you're as glad to see me, Maia, as I am to see you," he said, as soon as they had sat down. "Well, let's say almost as glad, since you've got all the advantages."
"I couldn't have hoped to see anyone better," she answered.
"No swimming in the Barb tonight, then?" he asked, jerking his thumb over his shoulder. "Too shallow for high diving now, is it?"
"I will if you will," she answered mischievously, pouring his wine.
"Why," said he, "you don't think I'd put you to the trouble of saving my life twice, surely? It wasn't worth saving once, you know. All the same, I'm glad you did it. Otherwise I wouldn't be sitting here now, would I, drinking Yeldashay with the Serrelinda?"
He had a charming aptitude for paying compliments with every appearance of sincerity and conviction. He admired her dress, praised the wine, was enchanted by the cabinet of fishes and insisted on Ogma accepting ten meld. He told a bawdy joke which was really funny, making Maia roar with laughter and slap his hand in mock reproof. For some time longer they talked of trivial things, both aware that they were circling a whirlpool whose center they could not, ultimately, avoid.
It was when he got up and crossed the room to fetch a box of nut thrilsa which he had brought as a present, that she first noticed that he was limping.
"What is it?" she asked, pointing. "Have you been wounded?"
"Oh, it's nothing," he answered, grinning. "I was running much too fast to collect anything serious, believe me. It'll be all right in a week or two."
"But did you walk back with Elvair from Lapan like that?"
"Well, someone had to come with him," said Shend-Lador.
"Shenda," she asked, "what happened? What really happened? All I've heard is rumors and tales from people who weren't there. If you're really grateful that I saved you, tell me the truth."
"Not getting out of that, is there?" he said, sitting down again and picking up his goblet. He paused. "You really want to hear everything, do you? Only-"
"Yes, I do. I've always liked Elvair: he's been very kind to me. If he's in trouble I'm sorry."
"Well, all I can honestly say, Maia, is that it's a pity for a lot of good lads that he couldn't just have stayed here and gone on being kind to you."
She said nothing, waiting.
"It wasn't too bad at the start," began Shend-Lador after a little. "The men were all in good heart and we went into Chalcon as keen as a pack of hounds on the scent. But before long we found we couldn't seem to come to grips with the enemy; and then we had to face the fact that it wasn't safe even to send out patrols to try and discover where he was, because they simply got cut up. It's appalling country-thick woodland, a lot of it, where you can't see further than a few yards, with torrents coming down out of the mountains every mile or so; not particularly wide, but swift, and very nasty to ford.
"What we wanted, of course, was a battle, but that wasn't Erketlis's idea at all. And the plain truth was that Elvair didn't really know anything about generalship or campaigning. Nor did I, come to that, but we had experienced officers who did. There was a regular officer, Kap-parah, who struck me as particularly useful-a crafty professional survivor if ever I saw one. But Elvair wouldn't hear a word from him.