"Dyphna? Tomorrow," replied Terebinthia; and was gone.
"Cran and Airtha! She's goin' to slip up one of these days, banzi; she's bound to," whispered Occula.
"Piggy'll find out she's featherin' her nest on the quiet and have her hangin' upside-down as sure as a cow can fart."
"Either that or she'll make her fortune," said Maia. "Elvair-ka-Virrion must have slipped her a hell of a lot to let Milvushina go out. Old Sencho'd never dream of allowing that if he knew."
"She must be better off than ever Domris was, right now this minute. Just think, every time one of us gets basted-- oh, well. Why doan' I stop talkin' and go to sleep?"
"Think you will now?"
"Sounder than a tree in winter. Good-night, pretty banzi."
37: THE SENGUELA
The early afternoon sun, slanting through the trees, shone on the bushes, the long, wet grass and patches of red-brown soil, drawing up a fresh-smelling warmth from the floor of the Tonildan glade. Close by, in a thicket, a greenbreast, with many pauses, was letting fall one slow, clear phrase after another; its song, in the silence, as joyous and untroubled as though there were no harm or danger in all the world. Winged flies, survivors of the previous summer, roused from the bark crevices or subterranean cells where they had sheltered through the rains, glittered in the soft air; many, in their first, unwary flutterings, snapped up by the pouncing sparrows. High above, in the newly-revealed, blue sky, a buzzard hovered, waiting to drop upon any small creature decrepit or injured, slow-witted, or simply deceived into momentary inattention by the benediction of returning spring.
Brown and spare, the young pedlar Zirek, stripped to the waist in the sunshine, stood leaning against a tree-trunk, one knee bent and foot raised as he scraped with a pointed stick at the mud caked on his boot.
His pack lay in the grass near-by and across it he had thrown his white-striped jacket and scarlet leather hat.
"So now you know--well, all there is to know," said he, looking smilingly down at his companion.
Meris, sprawled on his cloak, did not return the smile.
"But you did work for Sencho, all the same? As well as for Santil?"
"Well, I had to," answered the pedlar. "Else it wouldn't have been convincing. Some of the information was useful to him, too, I'm afraid--it had to be. Some of it was misleading, but some of it wasn't. It was a question of how little I could get away with. I've managed to avoid suspicion, anyway."
"And are there many, then, like you? Playing it double, I mean?"
"I don't know," said he. "I don't know anything except what I'm told. Those who don't know can't tell, can they?"
"Is that why you became a pedlar--to do this work for Erketlis?"
"No; I was a pedlar first; it was the Leopards--well, one of Sencho's agents--who first got hold of me, at Khasik, and said Sencho would pay me to work for him. A pedlar, going all over two or three provinces--I'm licensed from Kabin down to Ikat, you see--there's plenty of opportunities to pick up information. I accepted; but then I managed to let Erketlis know what had happened. He's made good use of it since." He broke off suddenly. "Listen! What's that?"
The glade was only a bowshot from the road by which they had come from Thettit-Tonilda. Zirek, following Sencho's instructions of a few weeks before, had called at Lily Pool early that morning and taken charge of Meris, whom Domris had woken and handed over to him before anyone else was about.
Since then they had walked some eight miles, first among fields and hamlets surrounding the city and then through the open forest-land east of Hirdo. Meris had at first supposed that they must be on the Ikat road and going south, for she had been told that the pedlar would be taking her to Chalcon. It was only gradually that she realized by the sun that this could not be their direction.
At last she had asked him directly what his plans were; and at this he suggested that they should turn aside into the trees for a bite and a rest. Meris had supposed that his reason would prove to be the one she was accustomed to; nor did she feel unwilling. She had not in the least been expecting what he had just disclosed to her and it had come as a considerable shock.
They both listened intently. From the direction of the road sounded voices and laughter, followed by crackling sticks and a rustling of the bushes.
"It doesn't matter, does it?" said Meris. "After ail-- you and me here--why not?"
The pedlar, without answering, stole away through the trees. He returned a minute later.
"Four or five young fellows with a couple of bullock-carts--no one I've ever seen before on this road. They've gone now, anyway."
"What were you afraid of?"
He sat down on the cloak beside her. "Well, in this game, you see, you never know who might have been put on to watch you; or who by. Sencho doesn't really trust anybody. But I believe Erketlis trusts me, even though I've never seen him in my life."
Meris frowned. "You've never seen him?"
"Oh, great Cran, no; that'd be much too risky! If you're-- well, what I am--you don't meet heldro leaders in person. You meet carters along the roads--old women in sweet-shops in the lower city--wood-cutters--whoever you're told to meet. You don't know them; you exchange a password. "Colonna"--"Bakris"; that sort of thing. You may never see them again. No, I've never met Erketlis, but I get his orders all the same."
"D'you think there may be people like you the other way round--working for Sencho?"
"I'm certain of it."
"Enka-Mordet--who gave him away?"
"I don't know," said Zirek, "but it only goes to show you can't trust anyone. Sencho had someone among Enka-Mordet's people; he must have. Or more likely Sencho just had some personal reason to want him dead."
Meris stretched lazily in the sunshine.
"You know what I was told I was going to have to do?"
He laughed. "What you're good at, by all I've heard. Had some practice, haven't you?"
"Plenty: I was looking forward to it. Be like old times, taking men into the long grass again. They said they'd free me if only I could find out what Erketlis is up to."
The pedlar put one arm round her and kissed her bare shoulder.
"Well, you won't be able to do that now, will you? What it comes to is this: you've got a choice. I can leave you with a friend of mine at Hirdo: but of course you realize, don't you, that whether I succeed or fail, they're bound to look for you? All the same, you may think it's your best chance. Kalton--my friend--he'd do all he could for you, I know that."
"And the other?" asked Meris.
"The other's to come along with me and help me. If it fails, I promise I'll kill you quick--this dagger here, see? But I believe myself that if only Occula can pull it off, we'll succeed. It's afterwards is going to be the hardest part." He paused. "Well, how d'you feel? Do you hate them enough to try it?"
"Hate them?" answered Meris. "Hate the Leopards? O Shakkarn, if only you'd seen Latto .hanging upside-down by the road! You couldn't even see his wounds for the flies!" She clenched her fists. "And Yunsaymis--she was in Sencho's household, you know. He had her whipped, like me--he sold her--he--"
"All right, I've got it: you don't like them," said Zirek. "Well, now's your chance; and a better one than working for
Sencho in Chalcon, I'd say. Him? When you weren't useful any more, he'd simply get rid of you. He certainly wouldn't free you, whatever he may have promised."
"But how's it to be done?" asked Meris. "If only I thought there was a chance--"
"Why, there's a fair enough chance," answered he. "In a day or two it'll be the New Year festival. There'll be crowds coming into Bekla from all over the provinces, and if only you can walk the distance in two days, we can be in the thick of them. I've got my pedlar's pass into the upper city. Durakkon'll be giving a feast by the Barb that night."
"Well?" said Meris tensely.
"I'm not saying any more," replied the pedlar. "Those who don't know can't tell. But I work to Santil's orders and I trust him. He wouldn't send me there without we had a fair chance."
"But how can we expect to get out of the upper city? There isn't any way out, except through the Peacock Gate."
"And that I'm not telling, either. But you can believe me when I say I believe we shall get out. Else I wouldn't be going." Putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. "If you don't fancy it--and I shan't blame you if you don't--say so now. It'll certainly be safer for you at Hirdo, with my friend."
Rising to her feet, Meris stood looking down at him. At length she said, "You mean I could really help to kill him, myself? I could actually see the bastard die--see the shit pouring out all over his filthy belly? Hear him choking in his blood--"
She stopped, panting and biting on her fingers.
"Steady, now, steady!" said Zirek, grinning. "Well, perhaps there might not be quite enough time for all that. Once it's done we'll have to be off sharp, you know--no fond farewells like you seem to have in mind. But since you're feeling so enthusiastic--"
"Do you remember," cried Meris, "do you remember what I offered you in Sencho's house, the day you gave that pottery cat to the black girl?"
"I wouldn't be likely to forget it," answered Zirek.
"Well, you needn't give me a flask of kepris today," said Meris. "Arid we don't have to be all that quick about it, either."
As he took her in his arms, she felt for the fastening at the neck of her robe, but his hand had reached it before hers.
"I'll come with you," she whispered, as they sank down together on the cloak. "Oh, yes, I'll come with you! Ah! Ah! Ready, weren't you?"