"Oh, I see." The lady, who in any case had recovered herself almost at once, took this smoothly in her stride. Still gazing at Maia, however, with a kind of mannerly-controlled wonder, she went on, "We're very glad you'll be staying with us tonight. You too, my dear," she added politely to Luma, who put her palm to her forehead but made no reply. "One of my girls will bring you some hot water" (I can't believe it! thought Maia), "and then she'll get your supper. Please don't hesitate to ask for anything else you want. My name's Penyanis, by the way," she added smilingly. "I'm U-Makron's wife. I hope you're not too tired after your journey?"
Although her Suban accent would have marked her out instantly in Bekla, Maia could nevertheless understand her well enough--better than she could understand Luma-- and guessed that in years gone by she must have spent some time in one of the cities of the empire. She herself, of course, had virtually no experience of talking to ladies of consequence, but for the few minutes until the hot water arrived she did her best and felt she had come out of it at least passably; perhaps because the old lady seemed almost bemused merely by looking at her, and on that account hardly concerned to pay any very close attention to anything she actually said. Soon she took her leave, hoping they would be comfortable and once more begging Maia to ask for anything she lacked.
An hour later Maia was feeling, if not altogether at ease, at least less uncomfortable than at any time since leaving Bekla. Her shin seemed almost to have stopped hurting. She had washed from head to foot with soap, combed her hair and cleaned her teeth with a frayed stick. The supper, though nothing more than fish, eggs, and fruit, had been good and Penyanis's maid had served it well. The wine, too, had been a delightful surprise, for it was Yeldashay-- even Sencho might have appreciated it--and there was plenty of it. Having thanked and dismissed the maid, she refilled her cup and stood at the window looking out into the twilight, where supper fires were burning behind the huts and lamps shone from windows. In the cool, mud-smelling mist beyond, the frogs were rarking far and near, and a belated heron flew slowly over, with backbent neck and trailing legs. "Go on--fly to Serrelind," she said aloud.
"Tell Kelsi her sister's in a mess and needs her." And oh! wouldn't she just about be glad, she thought, to see Kelsi come walking up through the village now, in her sacking smock and bare feet?
Whom she actually saw a moment later was Nasada, deep in conversation with an even older man who was walking beside him, leaning on a stick. At once she waved, called out "U-Nasada!" and then, mischievously, "Shagreh?"
He looked up and raised his hand. "We're coming to see you."
"Luma, help U-Nasada and the other gentleman up the ladder."
"Shagreh."
A minute later they were in the room and Luma, at a few murmured words from Nasada, had left it.
Nasada smiled at Maia, nodding approvingly.
"Well, you don't look as if you'd come twenty miles down the Nordesh. You look as if you'd just come from your upper city in a litter."
She curtseyed, tossing back her combed hair.
" Tisn't true, U-Nasada, and I reckon you know that; but it's nice to have anyone say it, specially you."
Nasada turned to his companion. "Were you ever in the upper city, Makron? It must be a dangerous place, don't you think, with girls like this about?"
"I've never been to Bekla, Nasada," answered the old man. "But now I've seen her I don't think I need to."
"Well, I suppose we shouldn't go on talking about her like this, us two old storks," said Nasada. "I'd better introduce you. This is U-Makron, elder of Lukrait--Maia of Serrelind."
Maia curtseyed again and raised a palm to her forehead. "Thank you very much for the beautiful wine, U-Makron."
"Oh,, you liked it?" he said. "That's good. King Karnat sent it to me a year or two back, but we're not really expert in such things here, you know. I'm glad to have been able to give it to someone who appreciates it. Still, I dare say you've been used to better in Bekla?"
She shook her head and smiled. "None better, sir."
There were several stools in the room. She motioned to them to sit down, rinsed two cups and poured more of the wine. The elder inquired about her escape from Bekla and the dangerous Valderra crossing, and went on to deplore the discomfort of Suba to anyone not used to its mists and marshes. To all of this she replied as she hoped he would wish.
"And--er--you grew up in Tonilda?" he asked at length. "On Lake Serrelind? That's near Thettit, isn't it? You've really lived there all your life?"
"Almost all sixteen years of it, U-Makron!" she smiled.
"Something over sixteen years since you were born?" said he, sipping his wine with a thoughtful air.
"Well, I myself never saw Nokomis, you see, though my wife did." He paused. "She tells me it's more than strange. I'm glad to have had this chance of seeing you. I wish you luck: but I must leave you now. I've got to talk to the young men before they go to Melvda tomorrow." She stood up, and he took her hands. "We shall meet again before you go. I feel honored to have met you, Maia of Serrelind, bringer of good fortune--as I'm sure you are."
"Good-night, U-Makron." (And I wonder what he'd call me if he knew how I lived in Bekla?) As Makron went down the ladder Nasada picked up one of the lamps and put it down by Maia's bed.
"You've had a long day: why don't you lie down? You'll be more comfortable."
She did so. He remained standing, sipping his Yeldashay and looking down at her.
"You'd like a man in that bed, wouldn't you?"
She looked up quickly, angry for a moment; but his tone was entirely matter-of-fact and there was no mockery in his eyes.
"Yes, I would."
"Natural enough, wouldn't you say, for someone who's lonely and anxious in a strange place? Who likes being
alone in the dark?"
"I never thought of it that way, U-Nasada: I just like-- oh, well, I just enjoy basting, I suppose."
"Great Shakkarn!" he said. "Any reason why you shouldn't? People do, or none of us would be here, if you come to think of it."
"Well, that's one thing, U-Nasada, but--" She stopped.
"Well, what's another thing?" He sat down beside the bed. She pondered, and as she did so realized with delight that he was in no hurry and glad for her, too, to take her time.
"Well," she said at length, "I suppose I meant that in Bekla men just used me, really, same as they might use a hawk or a dog, for sport; and I enjoyed it--or a lot of it I did--'cos it meant they admired me and wanted me. It was a sight better 'n working in a kitchen, too, wasn't it? But some of them despise you as well--for what you are, I mean--even though it's none of your own choosing; and that just about makes me mad. It's crazy, really, U-Na-sada. You're supposed to like it, because that's what they want--to think they've made the girl enjoy it: but then there's some people, if you act natural they just despise you, like Lenkrit and the others that night when I took my clothes off to cross the river."
"Well, I don't despise you," he said. "In fact, if you want to know, I very much admire the way you seem to be able to stand up to anything and still keep your spirits up. But Lenkrit, yes; I'm glad you reminded me of him. Can you remember what Lenkrit said when he first saw you? I'd be interested to know."
"Let me think. Only I was that frightened that morning-- Far as I can remember, Bayub-Otal said to Lenkrit as he must be forgetful--something like that--and to look at me again. And then Lenkrit said something about he wondered he hadn't seen it before, only the light was that bad."
"And that's all?"
"Far's I can recollect. No, wait! I remember now, he asked Bayub-Otal whether I was his sister; that's right."
"But you don't look much like him, do you?"