"How did you find this out?"
"Well, when I told my old mother what I was up to-- she sends you her blessings, by the way. She was more than grateful for the money--she said she knew there were some Katrian prisoners in the fortress and why didn't I check on them for a start, before I went to Urtah. I couldn't see there was any danger in asking straight out, so I went there and asked to see one of the captains of the fortress. The man I saw was Durakkon's younger son. He's no sort of a soldier at all, but he's a very decent, kind-hearted sort of fellow. Just as well--a real dyed-in-the-wool officer would probably have thrown me out. I told him my story about having known this Zen-Kurel when we'd both been banzis in Dari, and he told me at once--well, what I've already told you. Zen-Kurel's reasonably well, as far as I can make out--as well as anyone can be in that place--and Bayub-Otal too."
"Then--then surely they'll all be let out, won't they, as soon as things have quietened down? I could send him a letter, couldn't I, 'specially if you say this son of Durakkon's is so nice? Or--oh, Sednil, I could ransom him my-self, surely?"
"You might have tried, perhaps." He gazed at her somberly.
"What d'you mean?"
He took her hand. "Maia, there's something more, and this is the bad bit, I'm afraid. Fornis is in Dari."
"Fornis? Well, I know she is. What about it?"
"She's got the whole of Paltesh under her control, and it's rumored that Han-Glat, who's in command of the fortress, has become her lover. That's what she intended all along, I dare say: Han-Glat's about the one man who could stand up to Kembri, you see."
"Her lover?"
"Well, whether he is or not, no one's in any doubt that he's ready to do anything she wants him to. She's got Paltesh, she's got the fortress and she's got the prisoners. No one knows for certain what she's planning, but when I left, people were saying that she was in touch with some of the runaway slave bands in Belishba."
Maia shook her head uncomprehendingly.
"Well, you probably know more about Fornis than I do, Maia: I only know she's a woman who's ready to stick at nothing; and very bold and cunning, too. I think what she may really be trying to do is to make Kembri so nervous that he'll tell Durakkon to invite her to come back and confirm her as Sacred Queen again. And if he won't, she's perfectly capable of seceding from the empire and putting Paltesh at Karnat's disposal. At the least that would worry the Leopards very badly, but at the best--from her point of view, that is--she could hope to return to Bekla with Karnat and his army. That's to say, she could give him the empire!"
"Oh, damn the empire!" said Maia. "The prisoners! The prisoners, Sednil--"
"Why, the prisoners are one of her strongest bargaining counters, don't you see? She's got Bayub-Otal and something like sixty or seventy Katrians and Terekenalters, including two or three of Karnat's best officers. She means to sell herself and them--and Paltesh--to-her own best advantage, that's certain."
Maia, white-faced, fists clenched, stood up, staring out over the parapet of the roof across the lower city. "I don't care! I don't care for basting Fornis, or Han-Glat or the whole damned lot of them. Now I know Zenka's alive I'm going to get him out if it's the last thing I do!"
There was a long pause. "Maia," said Sednil at last, standing up and coming over to her side, "would you think about marrying me? I've loved you, you know, ever since-- ever since that morning in the temple. Do think about it seriously. A man of your own sort--someone you understand and who understands you. We could get down into Chalcon together before anyone missed you, and you'd be safe there. I know we might have a bit of a struggle to begin with, but I'd look after you and keep you safe--"
Turning, she laid a finger on his lips.
"I'm sorry, Sednil! I really am, because I like you and respect you. But it's not--well, it's just not what the gods say in my heart, that's all. Anyway, I told you before-- Nennaunir loves you sincerely and you couldn't do better." She paused. "I must go downstairs now. Do you see---oh, careful! He might look up!--do you see that man waiting down there in the garden? I'm going to refuse Aim, too, even if it costs me my life; and I reckon--I reckon it probably will. Can you please wait up here until Ogma comes for you?" Embracing him, she kissed him warmly on the lips. "Dear Sednil, thank you for helping me: I'll never forget it. I know what I'm going to do now: I didn't before; I only thought I did. So that takes care of everything between us--except for this." And she handed him a small, plain wooden box.
"What's that, then?" he asked, in the dulled, heedless tone of someone upset and preoccupied.
"The other two thousand meld. Had you forgotten?"
Eud-Ecachlon's air certainly did not much resemble the conventional notion of a man in love. As Maia came up to him in the garden he smiled and took her hands; yet there was nothing particularly happy or eager in his manner, which seemed, indeed, abstracted; nor did he compliment her on her appearance or her dress. She knew him, of course, for an impassive man, not readily stirred-- and anyway, she thought, 'twasn't as though she was going to say anything likely to make him start turning cartwheels. Yet all the same it nettled her--it affronted her sense of what was fitting--that he should to all appearances be so little on tenterhooks for her answer. She had left Sednil in tears, poor lad. From the look of things, she didn't reckon there were going to be many more shed round here.
Well, that'd certainly make it easier; but all the same it annoyed her.
He drank down his first goblet almost at once, like a man who needed it. She smiled, making a little pantomime of looking in and finding it empty. As she picked up the wine-jug to re-fill it, he asked her "Have you got any djebbah, Maia?"
"Djebbah? Yes, of course, if you want it. I'll call Ogma."
He drained his first tot of djebbah, too; and then sat down, looking rather more relaxed.
"I'm afraid you must have had a bit of a bad old morning, Euda. Everything all right?"
"Anything but, Maia; though I wouldn't say it to anyone except you."
"You mean the Council didn't go well?"
"How could it? The news is about as bad as it could well be."
"Why, what's wrong with the news, then?" asked Maia rather carelessly, as though the news were some sort of dish which Eud-Ecachlon had found not altogether to his liking.
He paused, seeming embarrassed, leaning forward as he tossed a handful of serrardoes one by one to a duck which had wandered up from the lakeside.
"Elvair-ka-Virrion," he said at length. "He's a friend of yours, isn't he?"
"Well, he's always been very nice to me. Yes, I'd say he was a friend."
"What would you say if I told you he was a coward?"
"Well, if you really want to know, Euda, I dunno as I'd be so very much bothered. Men are always going on about fighting and cowards and victory and courage and--oh, all that stuff. Elvair's got nice manners and a kind heart--I know that much. Why; are you calling him a coward?"
"Well, it certainly looks that way, I'm afraid. And you may find that you've got to be bothered before long, whether you like it or not."
She could have hit him. "Well, my lord, seeing as you don't seem to have anything better to talk about, p'raps you'd better tell me."
But even this, to all appearances, went over his head. "Well, the news from Yelda is very bad. In fact, they're not going to give it out in the lower city at all. It seems that Elvair-ka-Virrion, after entirely failing to come to any sort of grips with Erketlis in Chalcon, decided to fall back on Ikat Yeldashay for supplies and a general re-fit. He thought--and I think Kembri thought, too, though he hasn't said so--that once he was clear out of Chalcon, Erketlis would leave it at that and go home. But he didn't."
"Oh, didn't he?" asked Maia politely, since it seemed to be expected of her.
"No. He must be a very remarkable leader, that man," said Eud-Ecachlon. "He kept almost all his army together--apparently only a few went home--and made a forced march--something like fifty miles--through absolutely desperate country in less th
an two days. They got across the Thettit-Ikat road south of Elvair-ka-Virrion, so that he had to attack them."
"But I thought that was what Elvair wanted all along?" asked Maia.
"Well, so did he, but by that time his men were in pretty poor heart. Anyhow, the long and short of it is that he was beaten." He hesitated, and then went on, "But according to the officer who brought the news, he needn't have been. This man---Gel-Ethlin, his name is--made his report at the meeting this morning. He was so angry and upset that he couldn't contain himself--couldn't stick to what he'd been told to say. He couldn't even hold himself in on account of Kembri being there."
"Why, what did he say, then?" asked Maia.
"Well, what it amounted to was that Elvair-ka-Virrion had made a complete mess of the whole battle. Gel-Ethlin said he gave no leadership at all and--well, more or less ran away, as far as I can make out. And then he broke off the action, even though his captains wanted to go on. Gel-Ethlin said to Kembri, 'I'm very sorry, my lord, to have to report this, and believe me I wouldn't say it if I didn't feel I had to. If one word of it's proved a lie, you can hang me in the Caravan Market.'"
Even Maia was startled by this. "What did Kembri say?"
"Nothing. He thanked Gel-Ethlin as though he'd been reporting a fire or a broken bridge, and then he sent an immediate order to Randronoth to call up every available man in Lapan and go to Elvair's relief. But after what I've heard this morning I very much doubt whether Elvair will be able to retain the command. I think his own people may very likely depose him in the field."