Maia, concerned only to comfort her, felt at a loss. It had never entered her head that Meris, in indulging her taste for mischief, would make such a cruelly thorough job of it. In effect, thought Maia, she had inflicted a wound which would go on hurting Clystis for years, perhaps for life. She racked her brains for some sort of comfort.
"Listen, she's not worth crying about, Clystis--"
"It's Kerkol I'm crying about," sobbed the girl. "Oh, I never did Meris any harm--"
"Meris is a bad, spiteful girl," said Maia, "and that's no more than the truth."
At this moment Zen-Kurel spoke again. "Well, I'm fairly certain-, myself, of something that is the truth. Clystis, will you try to listen to me, please, because I think this is very important?"
His voice had a compelling quality and a quiet confidence which reinforced his request so effectively that Clystis raised her head, looking at him in silence. He, however, was looking riot at her but at Blarda, standing over by the far wall with a look of utter dismay, as though he had opened a door at random and found he had let out a wolf.
"Blarda," said Zen-Kurel, "can you come over here, please? There's nothing at all to be afraid of. I'm not going to hurt you; I just want to ask you a question, that's all."
Rather nervously, Blarda complied.
"Well," said Zen-Kurel, smiling and taking his hand, "so you and Meris have been amusing yourselves in the barn; and I'm sure no one's going to blame you for that. A handy young fellow like you--why on earth wouldn't you? As far as I'm concerned you can go with all the girls between her and Bekla--probably will, I dare say."
This produced from Blarda the ghost of a smile.
"Now look," went on Zen-Kurel, "answer me this like a good lad and don't be ashamed, because I'll tell you now, I've done the same kind of thing myself, and that's no more than the truth. When you've been with Meris-- you know, afterwards, when you were talking and so on-- did you ever tell her what Kerkol looks like with no clothes on? You know what I mean, don't you?"
"Yes," whispered Blarda. "Yes, sir, I did."
Zen-Kurel nodded. "But that was only because she asked you, wasn't it?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you think Kerkol could ever have done the same with Meris as you did?"
Blarda shook his head. "I'm quite sure he couldn't, sir."
"Why?"
" 'Cos he don't like her. He's said so to me--oh, three four times."
"Thank you," said Zen-Kurel. "I'm very glad, Blarda, that you had the guts and honesty to tell me that. Now would you please go and ask Meris to come back in here?"
Meris returned almost at once, shut the door, put her back against it and stood waiting with a look of sulky disdain.
"Meris," said Zen-Kurel, "we're leaving here tomorrow. I'm afraid you'll have to stay behind, but I thought you'd probably want to know all the same."
"Stay behind?" said Meris, visibly startled.
Zen-Kurel said nothing.
"Stay behind?" cried Meris. "What the basting hell do you mean? Why?"
"Because Lord Anda-Nokomis and I have decided that that would be best," replied Zen-Kurel.
"Besides, since you have this attachment to Kerkol--"
"Kerkol?" said Meris. "I've no more had anything to do with Kerkol than Maia there!"
"How very strange!" said Zen-Kurel. "Well, then, it must all be a mistake, but Clystis very unfortunately got the idea from somewhere that you had. I'm afraid you may quite accidentally have upset her. So I'm sure you'll want to reassure her and beg her pardon."
"Sorry!" snapped Meris, as though she were spitting in the gutter.
"Oh, in proper words and a proper voice," said Zen-Kurel a shade more sharply. "But if you prefer, you can leave it over until the rest of us have gone tomorrow."
There was a pause. Zen-Kurel picked up the bone needle from the floor and began idly examining it in the candlelight.
Suddenly Meris, pushing herself forward with a thrust of her shoulders against the door, went quickly over to Clystis.
"The truth is I've never had anything at all to do with Kerkol," she said. "I'm very sorry and I beg your pardon."
"Why did you try to make me think you had, then?" asked Clystis.
"I don't know. Like I say, I'm sorry."
"And you found out those things by asking Blarda?"
"Yes."
"He didn't tell you first: you asked him?"
"Yes."
"But why?"
"I don't know."
"She--er--she did kill Sencho," murmured Bayub-Otal. He had not spoken since Meris's first entry, and Blarda and the three girls all looked round at him.
"Yes, she did kill Sencho," replied Zen-Kurel, not taking his eyes off Meris, "and that shows how courageous and useful she can be when she likes. Well, do you want to come with us tomorrow, Meris, or not?"
"Yes, please," said Meris, like a child. Suddenly she snatched up Clystis's two hands and kissed them.
"I'm sorry! I'm really sorry! Oh, if only--"
The door from the yard opened again and Kerkol came in, followed by Zirek.
"Sorry I'm late in, lass," he said to Clystis. "Had a bit of trouble with two goats got out down the bottom. I was on gettin' 'em back and then I had to
mend the gap they'd bin through, see?"
He stopped to rinse his head and shoulders in the tub.
"I'm afraid we've got to leave you tomorrow, Kerkol," said Zen-Kurel. "It's a pity, but there it is. I'm fit enough now, you see, and we've got important business elsewhere. We're going to miss you all, and that's a fact."
Kerkol nodded stolidly, dried his face and sat down at the table.
"Ah, well, that's it, then." He paused. "Place won't seem the same, will it, lass?" Then, to Bayub-Otal, "Reckon we'd best have a bit of a drink on it, sir, while she's gett'n' us some supper. Fetch a drop of djebbah up, Blarda lad, so's we c'ri drink good luck to 'em all."
89: INTO THE FOREST
Later Bayub-Otal asked Maia, Meris and Zirek to accompany him down to the stream. The night was clear and star-lit, with a faint breeze from the east and a scent of planella from Clystis's little patch of garden. Of the comet there was no longer the least trace. Maia, who ever since her childhood had been alive to the progress of the seasons with an apprehension almost as unconscious as that of birds, felt sure that it could not now be much longer until the rains.
Bayub-Otal sat down on the ground, looking from one to another as he spoke.
"What we have to get clear now, I think, is where we're making for: I mean, where each of us wants to go. As you know, Zen-Kurel wants to get back to Terekenalt and I mean to return to Suba. What about you, Zirek? You're a Tonildan, aren't you?"
"Well, I don't know as that really comes into it, sir," he answered. "Specially just at present, when no one knows what's going to come out of all the fighting. I'll take my chance with you; as far as Lapan anyway. Then if Lord Santil's still in business, I'll go and join him--that's if you agree. Only I've got a notion he might be quite pleased to see them as killed Sencho; he's got a reputation, you know, for not being mean to people who've done him a good turn."