They were embarrassed out of countenance, these neck-or-nothing desperadoes. They would not look directly at her. After some moments Bayub-Otal said, "Come on, Lenkrit, give her your pack. We're lucky to have her to help us."
Without replying, Lenkrit stooped and lowered his pack down to her. She took it over dry and then came back for Thel's. When all the packs and weapons were across she offered to take their clothes, but the men would not undress, choosing to splash and flounder as best they could through the bed of the river, emerging wet from head to foot.
They sat on the bank slapping themselves and squeezing the water out of their sleeves. Maia, having dressed again, remained carefully silent. At length, with an air of mingled curiosity and resentment, Lenkrit said to her "You don't mind --men--seeing you naked?"
"All depends, my lord."
"On what?"
"Well, just struck me as I could help you, that's all." For the life of her she could not keep a note of irritation out of her voice. They might at least have thanked her, she thought; on impulse she added, "In Bekla no one'd think twice."
"Oh, wouldn't they?" replied Lenkrit contemptuously. "I see."
"Might be one or two things changed in Bekla 'fore long," muttered Th'el.
"Let her alone!" said Bayub-Otal sharply. "She helped you, didn't she?"
"Dare say she did," persisted the boy, with sullen obstinacy. "All the same, there's some things--"
"Stand up!" cried Bayub-Otal, himself springing to his feet. "Who am I? Answer me!"
"A--Anda-Nokomis," stammered Thel, facing him in the moonset. "I'm sorry--my km!--"
"Right, let's get on!" snapped Bayub-Otal, turning away and picking up his pack. "Now we're in Urtah we can stop as soon as it's light and get dry by somebody's fire." He touched Maia's hand. "Thank you, Maia. They're grateful, really. It's just that people in Suba see one or two things a little differently, you know."
It was on the tip of her tongue to reply "And silly they look with it," but she swallowed it down and set off behind him.
Two nights later Maia, wet through, was lying prone in a marshy thicket beside her five companions.
Seventy or eighty yards away, on the nearer bank of the Valderra, firelight flickered between the trees, and from time to time could be heard voices, the snapping of sticks and the clink of a cooking-pot or a weapon.
"There's no telling how many of them there are," whispered Bayub-Otal. "Do you want to try somewhere else?"
"Again?" replied Lenkrit. "It'd be the same at any other ford: they're all watched. We've got to chance it, Anda-Nokomis. I doubt there are more than nine or ten men there at the most. What do you think, Tescon?"
"Ay, get in among the bastards, sir, 'fore they know what's happening." After a moment he added, "They're only damned Tonildans; they won't fight."
"They'll not be expecting anything from this direction, sir," said Thel. "Their job's to watch the ford." He fingered his dagger.
"Waste of time going anywhere else, Anda-Nokomis," pursued Lenkrit. "It's getting on for first light now. It'd mean another night gone, and time's very short already. You ought to be down in Melvda as soon as you can. It'd look bad if Karnat decided to make a start without us, wouldn't it? Anyway, I've got to get back to my men. I've had enough of this."
And so had she, thought Maia. Physically she had never felt so worn out in her life. Since crossing the Olmen they had gone no more than twenty miles in two days, but although Bayub-Otal, as usual, had shown her every consideration, the distance had proved more than enough. Her feet were blistered and she had an upset stomach. Although they had spent the previous night under a roof, she would honestly have felt better if they had not. The place called itself an inn. The kitchen, which was also their sleeping quarters, had a boarded partition down the middle, on the other side of which were stalled cattle. The supper had been cooked in rancid fat and the privy was so vile that she could not bring herself to use it.
After an hour or two's sleep she had woken to find herself bitten from head to foot. Weeping from the sheer accumulation of discomfort, she had let herself out into the clean darkness, where Lespa's stars were paling in the first light, and lain on the grass for an hour. She had felt done up even before they set out.
Soon after nightfall they had approached the wooded eastern bank of the Valderra, making for the ford by which Lenkrit had crossed from Suba. As they made their way through the trees, however, it became clear from the noise and the number of fires that the Beklan outpost must have been strengthened. There seemed to be two or three dozen soldiers at least. Stealing away, they had gone about three miles north in the dark, through woodland, water-meadows and brooks, only to find at the next ford another strong outpost, where they had narrowly avoided blundering into a sentry.
It was now long after midnight; they had reached a third ford and Maia, chilled, aching and exhausted, felt past caring what happened.
All day she had been wondering whether she could not manage to get away from them: yet how, without help?
Kembri had told her that certain Leopard agents in Urtah might be able to get in touch with her, but none had made any approach. Last night she had had some idea of throwing herself on the mercy of the innkeeper and his wife, but (as the state of their house showed) even by rustic Urtan standards they were blockheads: there was no telling how they might have responded.
So, with ever-falling spirits, she had trudged on with the Subans. Yet until nightfall she had not really believed-- had not really faced the fact that she was going to be taken across the Valderra. Something would surely happen to prevent that. Lespa would not let it happen. Yet here she was. And once across the Valderra, how could she ever hope to get back?
And then, suddenly--or so it seemed---opportunity was staring her in the face. If they were going to attack this outpost, could she not run away in the confusion? There must be some place--some house, some village--she could hope to reach. They would be wanting to get on across the river; they wouldn't want to waste time searching for her. What might happen after that was another matter; but anything--anything offered more hope than being taken across the Valderra.
Some sort of argument had begun.
"But why has someone got to stay with the girl, Anda-Nokomis?" said Lenkrit. "We're few enough as it is."
"Because if it runs out badly, there's got to be someone to get her away and look after her," answered Bayub-Otal. "She's not going to be taken prisoner and dragged back to Bekla, and that's all there is to it."
"Then you'd better stay yourself," said Lenkrit brusquely. "It comes down to a question of who's going to be most use--"
"Don'ts peak to me like that!" replied Bayub-Otal, still whispering but with fierc
e authority. "I have my servant here, and he's under my orders, not yours. Pillan, you're to wait here with this girl until we've finished: is that clear?"
"Very good, my lord."
For a moment it looked as though Lenkrit was going to take it badly. His two followers, muttering to each other, were clearly expecting him to protest. Then, shaking his head with the air of one acquiescing in a bad business, he drew his sword. "Very well, Anda-Nokomis. Let's get on, then."
Immediately they were gone, the four of them, creeping noiselessly away through the bushes. Even with Pillan beside her she would have taken her chance and run, but he was gripping her wrist, presumably by way of reassurance. Suppose she were to scream and warn the outpost? But that would only mean her own death at Pillan's hands. No, there was nothing she could do. She began to tremble, and he put his arm round her shoulders.
"Easy, girl. Won't be long."
She shut her eyes and bit her lip, tense as a runaway thief hiding in a ditch. All around seemed complete silence, but this, no doubt, was because she could hear nothing but the blood beating in her own head. O Lespa! she prayed. Lespa, only help me!
Suddenly uproar broke out on the bank ahead; curses, shouting, the clash of metal, cries of aggression and alarm; she heard Lenkrit's voice above the hubbub and, looking up, could see black shapes running and stumbling, here and gone against the firelight. There was a heavy splash and then, horrible in its shrill agony, a scream, cut suddenly short. Lenkrit's voice shouted, "Let them go, Anda-Nokomis!" and then "Pillan! Come on! Quick, man!"
Dragging her to her feet, Pillan began thrusting through the undergrowth, pulling her after him. Twice she tripped, the second time striking her shin so painfully that she cried out and fell to her knees, gasping and dizzy. Pillan, stooping, put an arm under her shoulders, hoisted her bodily to her feet and held her up as she tottered forward, sobbing and breathless.
Lenkrit's voice, closer now, shouted again. "Pillan! Don't stop! Straight into the water!" This was followed by further sounds of fighting and commotion. A few moments later, struggling through a tangle of creepers and bushes, the pair of them came out on the bank.