"One of the guards--I gave him--I gave him what he wanted, to let me go."
"I see. And do you think they've found out yet that you've escaped?"
"I don't know. Not yet, perhaps, but they're bound to soon. Oh, please help me, my lord!"
"But how did you know where I was?"
"I knew where your lodgings were, my lord. Sencho knew--he knew everything like that. You will help me, my lord, won't you? If they catch me now--"
"Yes, I'll help you," said Bayub-Otal, "but we'll have to be quick. You're lucky to have found me here. I was warned, not an hour ago, to leave the city at once. I was intending to leave tomorrow anyway, but apparently they mean to arrest me on suspicion of having to do with the murder."
Kembri must have arranged this, thought Maia, to make sure that Bayub-Otal would be up and setting about his own flight when she arrived. That would make him less likely to question her too closely.
"I was just putting some things together." He pointed to a half-filled pack lying on the floor. "We must be off at once, before they know you're gone."
"Can I wash, my lord? Is there time? I'd feel so much better--"
"Yes, of course. Are you injured--wounded?"
"My shoulder hurts."
"Let me see."
She pulled the tunic to one side so that he could see the burn.
"O Shakkarn!" he said. "The brutes! This damned city! One day-- Did you tell them anything?"
"I couldn't, my lord, 'cos I don't know anything; not about the High Counselor's murder."
"Neither do I, but I wish I did. I'd gladly have played a part in it. That's why I'm suspected, I suppose."
Crossing to a door on the further side of the room, he called in a low voice, "Pillan!"
There was no response and after calling once more he went out into the passage, returning a minute later with a grizzled, stooping man carrying a towel and a pail of water.
"This water's not very hot--the fire's been Out an hour or two--but at least it's not cold. You can wash in here-- we'll leave you--but be as as quick as you can. And here's something to tie round your shoulder. At any rate it's clean--better than nothing."
Maia, in the act of taking the cloth from him, suddenly saw that the servant was staring at her with an expression of fear and amazement, making the sign against evil with a hand held before his face. She had not imagined that her appearance could be so grievous as to give rise to feelings of this kind, and herself felt frightened to see him muttering and gesticulating.
"Anda-Nokomis," stammered the man, turning to Bayub-Otal and speaking in an Urtan argot that Maia could barely understand, "what does--what does this mean? Who is this girl?"
He seemed almost about to run from the room. Bayub-Otal replied sharply.
"Control yourself, Pillan! Stop this superstitious nonsense at once! I'm quite aware of what's troubling you; but there's nothing to be afraid of, do you understand? Just pick up that pack and bring it into the kitchen with you. Be quick, Maia! As soon as you're ready, just leave the water and come through: we'll be waiting for you. I've got a cloak you can wear, but no sandals, I'm afraid."
"I'll be quick, my lord."
They went out. She stripped and washed, wincing as she touched her bruises and in her haste splashing a good deal of the tepid water over the floor. Then, clenching her teeth with disgust, she got back into her grimy shift and the once-white tunic, now stiff with sweat and dirt, and fastened its four remaining topaz buttons.
If only I could get some clean clothes, she thought, wouldn't matter how rough. Oh, I could cry with it!
The short passage let her into a brick-floored kitchen where--or so it seemed--Bayub-Otal was vehemently warning or admonishing his servant in some way. He broke off as she came in. The man, with a surly air of acquiescing rather than accepting whatever his master had said, went across the room to where his cloak was hanging on a peg. Bayub-Otal handed her a dark, smoothly-lined cloak--no doubt his own--and wrapped himself in a rougher one of coarse, gray cloth. Piilan blew out the lamps and they went into the courtyard. At the gate Bayub-Otal motioned to Maia to wait while Piilan, silently lifting the latch, stepped out into the street and stood looking this way and that. After a few moments he turned his head, nodding, and they followed him out.
It was barely three hundred yards back into the Khalkoornil and in less than five minutes, without encountering anyone at all, they were descending its final length towards the Gate of Lilies. A dim light was shining from the half-open guard-room door, but the only soldier to be seen was the sentry on duty who, having taken off his helmet and leant his spear against the near-by wall, was sitting on a bench in the shadow of the arch. Becoming suddenly aware of their approach he hurriedly sprang to his feet, snatched up his spear and challenged them.
Bayub-Otal, throwing open his cloak and spreading his arms wide to show that his sword and dagger were both sheathed at his belt and that he carried no other weapons, walked up to the sentry and stopped in front of his extended spear-point.
"I'm traveling to Urtah: I need to make a very early start. These are my servants, who are going with me. Will you please let us out?"
"No one's allowed out, sir," replied the boy. "Not until the gate's opened at dawn, and that's another three hours and more."
Maia had already been told by Kembri that the sentry would refuse to let them out; and that she was thereupon to say, as a pre-arranged password, that she was as thirsty as an ox and to ask him whether he could give her something to drink. She said this now and at once the soldier, replying that he would see what he could do, went into the guard-house and returned with the yawning tryzatt. While Maia drank some of the sharp wine which the boy brought her, the tryzatt conferred with Bayub-Otal over a bribe. Maia, well aware that the man must have received secret instructions to let them go, felt impatient of this play-acting. Whatever sum was finally agreed, Bayub-Otal was plainly not concerned to drive a bargain. A quick clinking of coins was followed by the unbolting and opening of the postern to one side of the main gates.
They passed through. Before them, in the light of the now-setting moon; lay the empty length of the highway to Dari-Paltesh. Maia's bare feet, used as they had once been to stones and miry lanes, had grown soft during her months in the High Counselor's household. Seeing her shrink, Bayub-Otal gave her his arm. Pillan fell in behind them, and as the postern shut to at their backs they set out towards the wooded country west of the Beklan plain.
43: NORTHWARD
After following the paved highway for some time they reached its junction with the road running north into Urtah. This was not much more than a broad track, its ruts and marshier places mended with stones or felled saplings laid side by side. After some three miles it entered woodland, where trees stood thick about the verge and in places overhung it. The moon had set and in near-darkness Bayub-Otal and Pillan went forward warily, with drawn swords. They met no one, however, and within the hour, from an open place, saw first light creeping into the sky on their right.
Soon the track forked and here Bayub-Otal slid off his pack, sat down and turned to Maia with a smile.
"Tired?"
She laughed. "Never in the world, my lord. I can go 's far as you like."
"There wasn't time to offer you food when you came. Would you like some now?"
"Oh, that's kind of you, my lord, but not yet." (The priests had in fact given her a good meal late the previous night.)
"You're probably right." He evidently interpreted her refusal as a prudent wish to put first things first and push on. "We'll both have been missed by now. We'd better not stay on the direct road to Urtah: we'll play safe and lose ourselves."
"What's your plan, then, my lord? Where are we making for?"
"That all depends on the news I get; if I get any. I may or may not go to Kendron-Urtah: but if I do, I shan't take you there."
"Why not, my lor
d?"
"I'm afraid you must leave the decisions to me." The cold, almost contemptuous note that she knew so well had crept back into his voice.
"But what we have to think about now," he resumed after a few minutes, as they went on down the narrower, divergent track, "is getting into Urtah by back-ways. Once we're actually there--across the Olmen, I mean--we'll be able to take things more easily. We'll be safe then. My father would never give me up to Bekla, and the Leopards couldn't make him."
"How far's that, then, my lord, d'you reckon?"
"Forty miles at least; it could be fifty. But with luck we ought to reach the Olmen the day after tomorrow. Can you do fifteen miles a day for three days?"
"I reckon so, my lord; but I'd go a lot easier if only I had some sandals and if I could get rid of these filthy dirty clothes."
"I think you may be able to, tonight."
Once again she felt what a strange, incomprehensible man he was. He had shown himself ready to risk his life to save--as he supposed--that of one of the most desirable slave-girls in Bekla. Now he was speaking matter-of-factly of not taking her with him to his destination. What was she to make of it? And at this rate how could she hope to obtain any information of value to the Lord General?
Dawn was now breaking along the eastern skyline in a long, smooth band of ochre, and the woodland round them was full of bird-song. The dark-red east turned first to crimson and then, as the sun itself appeared, to a dazzling gold too bright to look at. The zenith became clear blue, while before them the northern horizon lay in a purple haze, foretelling a hot, cloudless day.
Some way ahead, at the foot of an open slope, stood a grove of empress trees, covered with their mauve, trumpet-shaped blooms, and suddenly, as she looked down at them, a kynat, the purple-and-gold harbinger of summer, flew out from among the branches, uttering its fluting call. In the distance shone a soft, yellow mist of wattles in bloom, and beside the track were growing clusters of three-petalled trillium lilies. Stooping, she picked one and tucked it behind her ear. The return of summer had been a familiar blessing all her life, and now she responded to it almost unthinkingly, one of thousands of living creatures to whom it meant the restoration of energy and confidence. She was lucky Maia, secure in her youth and beauty. The dread of torture was gone; the filthy prison was gone.