"They think I'm beautiful!" she murmured aloud. "Well, happen I might just be lucky an' all." And for the moment it really did seem to her that she was lucky, and that her future, dark, uncertain and inauspicious as it must have appeared to anyone else, could not but turn out right in the end.
After a little it occurred to her to wonder what had become of Occula. "Whatever she wanted to do, she's had time enough to do it," she thought. Idly, she splashed some" of the water up between her breasts, pressing them together to hold it in a miniature pool and bending her head to sip. "I'll go and look for her. I must get her to come in too." She waded out through the reeds, slipped on her clothes and walked upstream in the direction which the black girl had taken.
After a minute or two she stopped, for a moment alarmed, then merely puzzled. Although she could recognize Occula's voice a little way off, it did not sound as though she were in conversation with anybody. Not only was there no other voice to be heard, but there was a certain evenness of flow and cadence, unquestioning and unhesitating, rather as though Occula might be telling a story or delivering a speech. Clearly she was not in danger or even in haste.
Maia stole closer. It seemed strange that she could not see Occula, for wherever she might be concealed her voice was quite near-by. And now Maia could catch words, uttered in a rhythmic, liturgical measure.
"Then, as she entered the fifth gate,
The gold rings were taken from her fingers.
'Pray what is this that now you do to me?'
'Most strangely, Kantza-Merada, are the laws of
the dark world effected.
O Kantza-Merada, do not question the laws of the
nether world.' "
As she uttered the last two lines Occula rose suddenly into view, standing, with outspread, open arms, among the bushes. She was facing away from Maia and so did not see her. After a moment or two of silence she knelt again, prostrating herself in an obeisance with palms and forehead low among the clumps of grass.
"Then, as she entered the sixth gate,
The jewelled breastplate was taken from her
bosom.
'Pray what is this that now you do to me?' "
Once more Occula rose and stood, gazing sternly into the trees as though answering a living questioner hidden among them.
" 'Most strangely, Kantza-Merada, are the laws of the dark world effected.
O Kantza-Merada, do not question the laws of
the nether world.' "
Despite the harsh voice in which she was speaking-- evidently in a role--Maia could see that her face was wet with tears, and as she knelt yet again there came the sound of a sob, cut short as she spoke the next words.
"Then, as she entered the seventh gate,
All the fine garments of her body were taken from her.
'Pray what is this that now you do to me?' "
Occula stood again, her whole body shaken with weeping.
" 'Most strangely, Kantza-Merada, are the laws of the dark world effected.
O Kantza-Merada, do not question the laws of
the nether world.'
At the word of the dark judges, that word which
tortures the spirit,
Kantza-Merada, even the goddess, was turned to a
dead body,
Defiled, polluted, a corpse hangin' from a stake--"
Real or not, Occula's grief now appeared so extreme that Maia could no longer bear to stand by and do nothing. Hastening forward as though she had only that moment come upon her friend by chance, she took her hand.
Occula turned upon her with blazing eyes.
"What the bastin' hell are you doin' here? Didn' I say I'd come back when I was ready?"
"Oh, Occula, don't be angry! I didn't mean any harm, honest I never! I came to look for you and you seemed so unhappy. Is it real trouble, or--or some kind of prayer, is it? I heard you say 'Kantza-Merada--' "
For some moments Occula made no reply, only looking round her as though returning slowly from some inward country of trance. At length she said, "I'm sorr
y, banzi. It's no fault of yours. Anyway, I'm not alone, am I, as long as I've got you to look after? So the goddess must have sent you, mustn' she?"
Maia burst out laughing. "Oh, I'm not laughing at you, Occula. Only it just seems so funny, the idea of your goddess sending me."
Occula said nothing, and Maia went on quickly, "What was it, then, that happened to Kantza-Merada--what you were saying about the--the dark world? It sounded--well, very sad, like."
"It's the wrong time of year, really," replied Occula rather absently. "That--what you heard me sayin'--that's part of the midwinter ritual. I ought to be sayin' it in Tedzheki, of course, but after all these years I've forgotten a lot of the words; it comes easier in Beklan nowadays.
"Kantza-Merada, from the great above she
descended to the great below.
The goddess abandoned heaven, abandoned earth,
Abandoned dominion, abandoned ladyship,
To the nether world of darkness she descended."
"But you said--just now--you said as she was turned to a dead body. What happened?"
"Why, she died for us, of course! She resigned herself to every foul thing that could happen to her."
"And then?" Instinctively Maia knew that there must be more.
"After three days and nights had passed away--
"Oh, I can't tell you all of it now, banzi. How does it go--