earth quake, the rocks be rent, the Temple of Cran fall? Not for nothing, then, after all, had Lespa set her great light to burn in the northern sky.
As the sunset-a brilliant, glowing chiaroscuro of saffron, crimson and green-faded and dusk darkened the terraces below, the two sentinels at the eastern door of the palace, new-levied peasant strangers to Bekla, their nerves already shredded by rumor and speculation, but most of all by the unconcealed alarm and dismay of their superiors, were suddenly stricken aghast to see the shadowy form of the goddess Lespa walking intently towards them in the failing light. There could be no mistaking the apparition. Very beautiful she was, with a more than earthly beauty, a matchless young girl immune to age or death; quite naked but, goddess-like, without the least air of self-consciousness or shame. Her superb body was glistening with drops of water from the clouds through which she must have descended, while her long hair, also damp, fell in a golden drift about her shoulders. Her bare feet made no sound. Despite its marvelous beauty her face-and what else would you expect?-was very sorrowful, grave and absorbed, yet with a purposeful look, as though she well knew her divine intention, whatever it might be.
Letting fall their spears, the sentries fled into the palace.
Maia, having entered under the portico, looked about for someone to guide her. There was no one to be seen, however, and she climbed the first staircase she came to, which brought her out on an open landing hung with tapestries. Yet here, too, all was deserted.
In this shady, eastward-facing place she felt, for the first time since setting out, a touch of cold. She had not seen the sentries run, but now it occurred to her that her nakedness might hinder her mission. Eud-Ecachlon, who was presumably somewhere in the palace, might have her apprehended, or perhaps some rougher man, a soldier or servant, might molest her. As she stood in perplexity she remembered the night of the senguela, when she had pulled down one of Sarget's wall-hangings to dress up as the prying old woman. Opposite her was a window, with curtains of green and blue silk. Scrambling up into the embrasure, she found that she could lift down the pole and slide them off. One would be enough. As a Tonildan peasant girl she had learned two or three different ways of draping and knotting a rectangle of woven cloth into a garment. Those
who possessed such things had been lucky: most wore sacking or homespun. In less than two minutes Maia was at least presentably clothed and making her way down the upper corridor.
Rounding the next corner she saw coming towards her a girl carrying a bundle of clothes.
"The lady Milvushina," she said. "Where can I find her?"
"The lady Milvushina, saiyett?" answered the girl. "They say she's very ill-"
"I know that!" said Maia. "Just tell me where she is."
Turning, the girl guided her down the corridor, climbed a staircase and in silence pointed to a closed door a few yards further on. Maia thanked her with a nod, tapped on the door and entered.
Four women, one of whom was Lokris, were gathered about a bed on the opposite side of the big, luxurious room. With them was an elderly, gray-bearded man, his bare arms streaked with blood. All five looked round at her and the old man, staring severely, seemed about to speak.
"I'm Maia Serrelinda, doctor," she said, before he could do so. "I've come because I was sent for."
Silently, he laid one hand on hers and, looking into her eyes, shook his head. One of the women was silently weeping. Suddenly, Maia caught her breath in an involuntary spasm of fear and horror. That smell-that terrible smell- when had it last overcome her, where had she known it before? Next moment she knew. She was back in the darkness and firelight on the banks of the Valderra, kneeling beside Sphelthon, the dying Tonildan boy. For a moment she actually seemed to hear his voice. Then the doctor's hand was gripping her wrist and she was turning with him towards the bed.
Milvushina, very pale, her forehead and chin beaded with sweat, lay covered only with a sweat-damp, crumpled sheet. Her long, black hair was tumbled about her. One bare arm was stretched across the bed. Her breathing was labored and uneven. Her mouth was open, as were her great, dark eyes, yet it seemed as though she saw nothing, for they were staring fixedly upward toward the ceiling. Maia's immediate impression was of a being isolated beyond reach of anyone round her. She looked partly like an animal caught in a trap and partly like someone com-
pelted to expend, upon some immense labor, nothing less than every scrap of energy at her command.
Maia took her hand.
"Milva," she said. "Milva? It's Maia: I'm here."
Slowly, Milvushina seemed to return from a great distance. Her head rolled, her eyes found Maia's and she gave the faintest trace of a smile.
"Maia," she whispered.
"Yes. You must rest, darling," answered Maia. "I won't leave you. It'll be all right, you'll see."
Very slightly, as though even this was an effort, Milvushina shook her head. "I'm dying.",
"No, you're not, dearest."
Milvushina's hand clenched weakly on Maia's. After a few seconds, having gathered strength to speak again, she murmured, "Don't-don't-I need you-" She broke off, shutting her eyes and biting her lower lip, apparently seized once more with pain.
Maia bent her head to her ear.
"I won't go away."
It seemed doubtful whether Milvushina had heard her. Her hand lost its grip and she began once more her heavy, intermittent panting.
Maia stood back from the bed. "What's happened?" she asked Lokris. "What's gone wrong?"
"It was the news, saiyett," answered Lokris, "and then Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion refusing to see her or speak to her. She went into premature labor this morning, but she's only bled ever since and we can't get the baby born."
"Can't you cut her?" asked Maia, turning to the doctor.
"I have cut her, saiyett. I'm very sorry. Believe me, I've done all I can-all anyone could. These cases are always dangerous. No doctor can ever be sure-"
"You mean she's dying?"
"Saiyett, the loss of blood-"
"There's no hope?"
He shook his head. "The internal bleeding can't be stanched, you see. I've given her a drug for the pain. There's nothing more I can do."
Maia, falling on her knees beside the bed, laid her cheek against Milvushina's shoulder. She did not move as the women drew off the sheet and once more began changing the blood-drenched dressings. When they had finished the room seemed very silent and dim. Later, Maia became
vaguely aware that someone had brought more lamps. Later still, Milvushina stirred, moaned and spoke without opening her eyes.
"Maia?"
"Yes, dear; I'm here."
"Tell Elvair-tell-"
"Yes, Milva?"
"I love him. I-don't-blame-" Suddenly, startlingly, her utterance became clear and lucid. "He's being silly. No blame. I love him, say."
"I'll tell him."
"Promise?"
"Yes, Milva: I promise."
Milvushina's hand pressed hers once more. She seemed to be trying to say something, but no words came.
Someone brought a stool and Maia sat on and on beside the bed, holding Milvushina's hand and watching in the lamplight the slight movements- of her lips and eyelids. They ceased. After a long time-as though, having resisted to the last, she had finally been compelled, against every spark of her will, to acquiesce-she knew that Milvushina was dead.
She stood up, gazing down at the body. Milvushina looked unbelievably young-about twelve-a child with enormous eyes that stared and stared unblinkingly, as though in accusation. It was the eyes that were staring, not Milvushina. She had gone, leaving this sorry likeness behind.