"Of course: you're used to plenty of that at the High Counselor's, I dare say." Sessendris spoke as pleasantly as ever. "I notice your black friend's putting on a little weight, isn't she?"
"Urtans seem to like her, anyway," replied Maia.
"Really?" Sessendris seemed surprised. "How do you know?"
Maia bit her lip. Here was a fine start to a career of adroit deception! And Sessendris must, of course, know of the existence of the upstairs room overlooking the hall.
"Well, Lord Elvair-ka-Virrion said to me as the Urtans had told him they'd heard of her from someone in Thettit, that's all. That's why he asked the High Counselor to let her come tonight."
To this the saiyett replied with a nod, and Maia could only hope that it had sounded convincing.
Strolling unhurriedly through the colonnade and down the steps, she helped herself to a crown of jasmine from a tray held by a slave. Several young men turned to stare at her, but Elvair-ka-Virrion, who was talking with Nennaunir and another girl, did not give her a glance. Going across to the supper tables, she stood demurely on the carpeted dais, letting another slave make her up a plate as he thought fit. Holding this in one hand and a full goblet in the other, she glanced around her, pretended to notice Occula for the first time and went towards the table where the Urtans were sitting.
She walked slowly, for she was feeling rather nervous and wanted to begin by observing the Urtans at closer quarters and if possible weighing them up a little. She noticed at once that of the five, the two older men--Eud-Ecachlon and the dark, detached Bayub-Otal--were obviously of higher rank. Not only were their clothes finer, but there was about them an unmistakable air of accustomed authority, of which the three others were clearly sensible even in the midst of their merriment and high spirits.
Eud-Ecachlon, a man already, to Maia's eyes, middle-aged, was of medium height, rather thick-set, with touches of gray in his hair and beard. Something in his rather slow movements and the steady gaze with which he sat listening to one of the younger men suggested to her someone of stolid dependability--even, it might be, a shade slow; not a quick mind or a natural leader. Without giving the impression of being a fool or not up to his position, he nevertheless had the air of a conventional, perhaps rather uninteresting person, content with and even preferring things as he had always been used to them.
Still, never mind 'bout him, she thought as she drew nearer to the table. It's t'other as matters to me.
Bayub-Otal had also turned towards the young man who was speaking. The sight of him at closer quarters confirmed the notion she had already formed. This was a keener, tenser, more restless character altogether; and also, in some way or other, a man apart. There was, or so she vaguely sensed, something in him awry; a kind of estrangement from natural, spontaneous life, as though if he were to laugh it might be because he thought it appropriate to do so rather than because he could not help it. A kind of invisible veil or screen seemed to lie between himself and his companions. Energetic and clever he certainly looked, yet somehow clouded with--with what? She could not tell, yet her spirits faltered. She knew nothing, she felt, about such men as this. Was he really at all likely to fancy her? She rather doubted it. If he did not, she had no idea of how to go about inclining him to do so.
At this instant Bayub-Otal looked up and saw her. His immediate reaction was so extraordinary and unexpected that she felt actually alarmed. He started violently--though this, as the young fellow opposite reached the riotous cli-max of his anecdote, went unnoticed by his companions-- and then, with one hand gripping the edge of the table, stared at her open-mouthed, with a look not unlike fear-- almost as though he were about to leap up and run away. She, for her part, came to a dead stop, quite disconcerted and not knowing what in the least to do. Gradually, though he continued to stare at her, his features became composed. He looked away for a moment, then once more looked back, slightly shaking his head. Whatever had dismayed him, he evidently now had it under control. She was the one who remained dismayed. Could there be something wrong with her dress or her hair? Had she unknowingly done something indecorous? She couldn't think of anything. Could he be some kind of nervous eccentric-- perhaps even afflicted with fits? If so, why hadn't Elvair-ka-Virrion warned her?
Well, there was no time to wonder. She could only pretend to have noticed nothing and go on. To cover her confusion she greeted Occula first, smiling and embracing her where she sat on Eud-Ecachlon's knee.
"And who's this?" asked Eud-Ecachlon, clearly pleased.
"Maia, from Serrelind. She puts me in the shade," answered Occula. "Doan" you see how dark I've gone? That's with blushin'."
Eud-Ecachlon rubbed his hand along her bare arm. "You must be right. Nothing's come off on me."
"How do you know?" asked Occula, stroking his cheek. She held out her pink palm. "See? It's on you now."
There was a general laugh. "Well, why don't you let Maia from Serrelind sit down?" said Eud-Ecachlon to the rest. "Come on, Haubas," he added, to the big young man sitting on the further side of Bayub-Otal, "move up and make room for her."
Haubas obediently moved along the bench, whereupon Bayub-Otal--perhaps, thought Maia, because he wanted to remain next to the man who Cut up his food--did the same. She sat down between him and Eud-Ecachlon and without more ado fell to work on her supper. She was so hungry that the first gulped mouthful stuck rather uncomfortably in her throat.
"You seem to be ready for that," said another of the young Urtans sitting opposite her. She smiled and nodded, swallowing another large piece of partridge.
"You've only just arrived, haven't you?" asked the man on his left, hardly raising his eyes from her breasts even as he spoke. "I saw you come in."
Soon they were both talking to her with so much animation that she had nothing to do but listen, smile and answer an occasional word. The effect of her beauty was not only to excite them but to make them rather self-conscious and coltish. They laughed a great deal, paid her compliments, teased and contradicted each other, often asked her to corroborate them and continually called the slaves over to serve her with food and wine for which she had not asked. Meanwhile Bayub-Otal, seated on her right, remained silent. Yet it struck Maia that although he was not by nature the sort of man to let himself go, he was nevertheless taking good care not to appear entirely out of accord with the younger men's brash high spirits. It was clear that they respected him and accepted his watchful, attentive manner as his own way of being in their company. Whenever someone addressed a remark to him, he replied readily and pleasantly enough, once turning a sally against the man who had made it. Maia noticed, however, that he said almost nothing except in answer to somebody else; nor did he speak directly to either Occula or herself.
"He's sharp enough to hold his own," she thought, "but far as I can see he's kind of got something on his mind. Reckon Kembri's picked the wrong girl. Don't seem like he's one to have his head turned in a hurry. All same, I'll have to have a go."
At this moment, however, Bayub-Otal asked her quietly, "How old are you? Young enough not to mind being asked--I can see that."
In point of fact Maia was, of course, so young as to resent being asked. Just in time
she choked back the kind of retort she would have made in Meerzat. Leaning towards him and speaking as though she were telling him something confidential, she replied in an equally low voice, "I'm fifteen, my lord."
"Fifteen?" He paused. "You're sure of that?"
She laughed. "Well, of course. I'll be sixteen in a few days, actually."
"And how long have you been in Bekla? You come from Tonilda, your friend said?"
"Not very long. Yes, I come from Lake Serrelind."
"I was there once: I went sailing on the lake with a friend."
"Then I may have seen you, my lord. I used to swim in the lake a fair old bit."
"I should certainly remember if I'd seen you."
Yet it was said without a smile or any particular warmth, and Maia felt puzzled. A moment later he had turned to Haubas on his other side and the two men opposite were at her again. Occula had slid off Eud-Ecachlon's knee and was now sitting beside him, eating grapes and wiping the pips with the back of her hand from between her soft, thick lips.
It was plain that one of the young men was growing tipsy and not altogether pleasant with it.
"Where do you come from?" he asked suddenly, grinning at Occula in a provocative, taunting manner.
"Nowhere in the empire, I'll bet: unless it's Zeray."
"No, a bit further than Zeray," replied Occula. "I shan't be endin' up there, either. Will you?"
"Taken in war, then, were you?" asked the young man. "Your lot ran away, did they, and left you for the Beklans? Any regrets?"
Eud-Ecachlon, shaking his head, seemed about to remonstrate, but as he hesitated Occula spoke first.
Her voice was conciliatory, low and pleasant, but Maia, knowing her so well, could sense her controlled anger, like the twitching of a cat's tail.
"People always regret leavin' me. Sometimes they regret teasin' me, too; but only when I decide I've had enough."
"Hoo, what a lot of words!" answered the young man, with a kind of sneering laugh. "That supposed to be clever?"
"Ka-Roton," interjected Bayub-Otal quickly, "don't be stupid!" His tone contained no surprise, and Maia wondered whether Ka-Roton commonly gave this kind of trouble after a few cups of wine.