He was carrying her easily along the shore in his arms. Although she had no idea what he had in mind, she could not help enjoying it.
Within a minute they had reached the outskirts of the frolic going on round the Pool of Light! About twenty or thirty young Leopards, together with perhaps half as many girls, were gathered along the shore, shouting with laughter as they pelted and cheered on a young man who had plunged in fully clothed and was laboriously splashing his way across the pool, supporting himself on a floating wine-cask. Looking at him, Maia could feel only contempt for his stupid clowning. He was, she felt, merely spoiling and uglifying the whole notion of swimming. It was like as if he'd started hopping about while Fordil was playing the music for the senguela.
Elvair-ka-Virrion put her down.
"Can you swim better than that?"
"Than that, my lord? Dear oh law, that's not swimming! Why, I could dive out of that zoan tree there and be halfway 'cross the pool 'fore anyone'd seen me go!"
"Could you indeed?" said Elvair-ka-Virrion. "Well, if you really can, I'll--"
He stood laughing down at her, his teeth very white in his shadowed face. A girl ran past, calling "Elvair, come on! We're going to pull him out!" Elvair-ka-Virrion ignored her and she disappeared among the bushes.
"Can you?"
"Whatever you say, my lord. But's anyone going to mind if I'm naked? Only--well--all these old heldril, and the High Baron's not far off, either. I don't want no trouble--"
"Trouble-- you-- naked?" said Elvair-ka-Virrion. "Ha! Don't worry; I'll see to that."
Maia, drawing the combs out of her hair and pocketing them, unbuttoned the embroidered tunic and took it off, together with her shift. Elvair-ka-Virrion stretched out his arms to her, but she smiled and shook her head.
"One thing at a time, my lord. Only this is serious stuff, see?"
With this she ran across the grass to the foot of the zoan not thirty yards away. No one seemed to notice her, for they were all watching the young man struggling out on the further bank. In a moment she had seized a low branch and pulled herself up into the fork. Having taken stock of the tree, the pool and her potential audience, she began edging up a long, sloping bough which extended over the water.
From one branchy handhold to another she inched her way outward, until the thinning bough began to sag under her weight. Go out any further, she thought, and I won't have enough support for a dive. Ah, here was a good place, though--nice and open, no other branches to get in the way and the water--oh, eleven or twelve feet down, perhaps; hard to tell in this light, but it looked deep enough.
At this moment two young men walking along the bank looked up, saw her and stopped in amazement.
Pointing, they called out to others further off. People began running towards the zoan, staring and exclaiming.
"Careful--you'll fall!"
"No, she won't!"
"What a pretty girl!"
"Why not come down and go to bed with me?"
"Who is she?"
"Look out!"
"It's the senguela dancer!" cried a voice.
"She's going to dive!" shouted Elvair-ka-Virrion at the top of his voice.
At this there was some derisory laughter and someone shouted "When? Next year?"
Maia, facing the full moon, her toes flexed on the rough, fissured bark, was on the very point of diving when suddenly she saw through the foliage a woman gazing directly up at her. The glimpse, between the faintly-moving, silvery leaves, was like a face seen in a dream--indistinct yet disturbing; arrestingly beautiful, yet in some way menacing too. The wide, commanding eyes, framed in an aureole of hair gleaming in the moonlight, were staring--with approbation, certainly--but also with a kind of intent rapacity which frightened her even as she sensed it.
Startled and thrown off balance, she swayed and for an instant tried to stop short. But this was no longer possible. Thereupon the naturally-acquired skill of years came to her rescue. Her body knew instinctively that it must dive.
To the watchers below there seemed no trace of hesitation. One moment she was standing in the moonlight, high among the zoan boughs. The next she had dived outward, straight and taut, hair streaming and the leafy branch thrashing behind her, to plunge through the surface of the lake with a single, quickly-gone splash and a symmetry of outward-flowing ripples.
In the instant of diving Maia had recognized the watcher below her. It was the Sacred Queen.
These Beklans were no swimmers: that she had known all along. To them, a girl who made nothing of plunging twelve feet into deep water seemed almost miraculous. All round her, from both banks, arose cries of wonder and acclamation. Waving, she turned on her back, arching her breasts clear of the surface and then, with hands gently fanning beneath her, eased herself smoothly towards the center of the pool.
The water was warmer than she had expected. It really was a lovely night for a swim. Should she, after all, simply swim away down the length of the Barb? Ah, but the High Counselor? And then again, she'd better not lose touch with Elvair-ka-Virrion, who'd promised to keep her out of trouble. Still, all these rich people--she might as well show them a thing or two now she'd started. One thing might lead to another, as Occula was always saying.
Swimming towards the shore, she stopped some yards out and lowered her feet, but found no bottom.
A small crowd had gathered on the bank, as near to her as they could get. One young man knelt, miming anguished longing and holding out his hands in mock entreaty, while another took off his gold chain and held it up, offering to give it to her if only she would come ashore and let him put it round her neck for himself.
Exhilarated, she began to tantalize them, jumping herself up and down in the water and opening her arms in invitation.
"Who's going to join me?" she cried, laughing up at them. "Isn't there a single one of you man enough to come in and catch me?"
"It's too deep, Maia," called Shend-Lador. "Come a bit further in, where we can wade!"
He pointed along the curve of the shore. After one quick look to make sure of her direction and the distance, she dived under, swam a dozen strokes and came up to find herself just in her depth and about twenty yards out from the bank.
"You're afraid, aren't you?" she called to Shend-Lador. "You're afraid to come in and catch me!"
For answer he began taking off his clothes, tossing them here and there and then sitting down while two of the girls, shouting with laughter, pulled off his shoes and breeches. Four or five other young men followed his example.
"What's the reward, Maia?" shouted a young gallant with a wreath of scarlet trepsis round his shoulders.
Before she could speak, Elvair-ka-Virrion's voice answered.
"Anyone who catches her can have her--that's the re-ward!"
Already Shend-Lador and three more had leapt into the water and were wading out towards her. One of these, an aider man, tried to clutch Shend-Lador and pull him back, but himself overbalanced and fell his length amid roars of delight from the spectators. Maia, waiting until the last possible moment, swam a few lazy strokes further out. Shend-Lador plunged after her up to his neck, whereupon she turned and slipped shorewards past him, stroking his cheek with her fingers and gliding away as he made a clumsy grab which missed her by a foot.
Now she was swimming back and forth between them as they floundered and clutched this way and that; pretending to offer herself and vanishing under water just when they all felt sure she must be caught; coming up behind Shend-Lador and nibbling his shoulder before he had even realized she was there.
Then, swimming inshore again, she stood up no more than knee-deep, displaying herself in the moonlight, imploring them to make haste, for she felt so lonely and feared she would never be caught at all. At this a big, bearded man, still in the act of undressing, leapt off the bank in his breeches and came splashing towards her. Maia, diving quickly, pulled them round his knees as he lunged forward, groping. Shouts of laughter and derision rose from the bank as her prank revealed that he had plainly been very eager to catch her indeed.
Although their admiration and her own sense of supremacy were delightfu
l, nevertheless she could not help beginning, now, to feel a trifle weary of the game. She had hoped that there might have been one swimmer among them at least. As it was, the whole lot of them together couldn't have caught her if they'd tried all night, and her common sense told her that however desirable she might be, they would soon get tired of being made to look fools. Yet how best to bring it to an end? She had not foreseen that Elvair-ka-Virrion, in his high spirits, would take it upon himself to offer her as a prize. All the same, she thought, she'd have had no real objection. They were all rich and high-born, else they wouldn't be here.
The story would have got around and likely increased her popularity; and besides, there'd almost certainly have been a generous lygol into the bargain. She could simply have picked out a man she fancied, let herself be caught in some amusing way and then done what was expected of her. But what put all this out of the question was the High Counselor. Ah, and it must be about time she was getting back to him an' all. Perhaps he was already asking where she'd got to?
If he were to miss her and then learn that she'd been-- She thought of Meris. Oh, Cran, there was no time to be lost; no, not a minute! She'd better just swim straight back along the lake--they'd never let her go else--never mind her clothes--she could always ask a slave to go and fetch them back from Elvair-ka-Virrion.
Suddenly, cutting through the hubbub, there came a different kind of cry--quick and desperate, a yell of fear cut short in a choking gasp. Shend-Lador, in his eagerness to reach her, had missed his footing and was struggling in deep water. As she looked, his head went under, reappeared for a moment and vanished.
Most of those on the bank were still running about laughing. Only a few had seen what had happened, and these were shouting helplessly and pointing to where Shend-Lador had disappeared.
Maia, reaching the place in six or seven strokes and diving instantly, came upon him a few feet below the surface. He was still struggling, but feebly. As she seized him he grabbed her in panic and she bit his hand as hard as she could. He let go and she kicked upward, got his head above water, turned on her back and dragged him some five or six yards towards the bank. Splashing and jerking, he clutched her again and almost pulled her under; this time she could scarcely break his hold, and, having done so with difficulty, was forced to let him go while she recovered herself. They were both in their depth now, but he could not stand unaided. She put one arm round him, trying to reassure him as he leant upon her, vomiting water over her shoulder.