If there were indeed Ortelgans out there in the wasteland beyond the camp, then surely they could only be those whom Ta-Kominion had led to Chalcon as part of Elvair-ka-Virrion's force. Five hundred Ortelgans; she recalled Bel-ka-Trazet saying so at the barrarz. She remembered, too, how he had also said that their assignment was largely a matter of policy. "We have to keep in with Bekla. But see your men come back alive, that's all. And if you have to get out, get out through Lapan."
Could it really be the whole of Kembri's army out there, with the Ortelgans nearest? Or had Ta-Kominion, perhaps, after the defeat on the highway and the deposition of Elvair-ka-Virrion, decided not to wait for Kembri, but to save his men and make the best of his way home rather than face destruction with the Leopards?
Maia stood abstracted, musing in the darkness, while all around the soldiers made a final search of the shelters, here and there coming across some bewildered woman or terrified, deserted child and guiding them down to the river.
She had liked Ta-Kominion and he had liked her. It was he who had opened the bidding at the barrarz; he had gone to three thousand meld, she recalled--probably most of what he had in the worlds--before being obliged to drop out.
It would be no use trying to talk to Elleroth: no use trying to talk to Anda-Nokomis. As responsible soldiers they could not discount the possibility that it might be Kembri out there; or even if it was not, that whoever it was might strike first and ask questions afterwards. They would tell her to leave their own business to them and join the other women across the river.
But if she herself could only get to Ta-Kominion and tell him that these Sarkidians had no more wish to fight than he had, then any amount of misunderstanding and bloodshed might be prevented. It would be no use waiting until the morning. Once blood had been shed, injury sustained, pride aroused, these men would be at each other like cocks in a pit.
Yet if it was Kembri's whole army? He would most probably put her to death, if only for having been with Elleroth. He desired her death, as she knew. For long minutes she stood irresolute, feeling Sphelthon's invisible presence, his gaze upon her in the darkness. She raised her eyes to the glowing stars.
"O Lespa! Send me a sign! Only send your servant a sign!"
At this moment, from somewhere in the camp, there came faintly to her ears the cry of a lost child.
"Mother! Mother!" The voice was Tonildan.
Maia began to run. Bending low and peering this way and that, she dodged between the huts, came to a dry watercourse, dropped silently into it and began making her way along it in the opposite direction from the river. After going about two hundred yards she climbed out on the further side, lay prone until she was sure there was no one near and then set off eastward through the dried-up bushes and scattered clumps of trees.
She went cautiously, dodging from one thicket to the next and stopping continually to look ahead of her and listen. At all costs she must avoid running into one of Elleroth's patrols and being brought ignominiously back to the camp, for in that case it would certainly be supposed that she had been deserting--or perhaps even worse.
Once she thought she heard voices at a distance, but after waiting for some time decided that it could only have been her own frightened fancy. The scrub was open enough for her to keep direction by the stars, and this she took for a sign of Lespa's favor. Any road, she thought, there's no Valderra here.
Whatever happens, I shan't drown.
None the less, she was never for a moment free from apprehension and the fear of death. The solitude, utterly still, seemed menacing. There was not an owl, not a bat to be heard. The very silence of this wilderness seemed unnatural. Twice she almost turned back; and twice glimpsed Sphelthon glimmering among the trees, a wraith that vanished even in the instant that she perceived it. Her tears were falling, but whether for him or for herself she could not have told.
For perhaps half an hour she wandered on through the empty wasteland, a prey to every kind of misgiving. Perhaps it had all been a false alarm and there were no soldiers at all? Or perhaps, whoever they were, they had already gone. Perhaps she had taken the wrong direction and already left them somewhere behind her. If they really existed, perhaps they were not Ortelgans at all, but runaway slaves like those with whom Meris had lived in Belishba. Even if they were Ortelgans, nevertheless Ta-Kominion might not be with them. He might be dead; or they might have mutinied against him. If he was with them, it now seemed to her unlikely that she would be allowed to speak with him at all. Or even if she were, why should he believe her, why should he trust her! What proof could he have that she was not a decoy sent by Elleroth?
Yet still she went on. The only possible thing to do, she thought, was to act on the assumption that the Ortelgans were there, that they were alone and that Ta-Kominion was with them.
She was picking her way through a thick grove of scrub willow when she once more heard voices. This time there was no doubt about it: they were low but distinct. As she stopped, holding her breath, she realized with a shock that they were very close--no more than twenty or thirty yards away among the trees.
She stood listening intently.
". . . should've stayed where we were, if you ask me."
"All depends, though, don't it? Who's to tell?"
Silence returned. She wondered whether the men had moved away; yet she had heard nothing. After what seemed a long time she heard a cough. Then the first voice, still speaking low, said, "The basting rains, though; how's he think we're going to get back once they start?"
"Well, I reckon soon as he's sure which way it's gone he'll go over, that's his notion."
"What, to Erketlis, you mean?"
"Ah. Quickest way home, see?"
This was enough for Maia. The men were speaking so quietly that she could not be sure of their dialect, but what she had been able to hear had convinced her that they must be Ortelgans speaking of Ta-Kominion. Well, she thought, reckon this is what I come for. If I'm going to die I'd best just get on with it. She called in a low voice, "Can I talk to you?"
There was a sound of startled movement, and then one of the men replied, "Who's there? Who are you?"
"I'm a woman, and I'm alone. Can I come and talk to you?"
"What you want, then?"
"I'm a personal friend of Lord Ta-Kominion. I've got an urgent message for him."
She could hear the men muttering. Then the same voice said, "Who's it from, then? And who are you?"
"I'll tell that to Lord Ta-Kominion."
At this moment a new, authoritative voice said, "What the hell's all this basting row? Weren't you told to keep quiet, eh?"
"It's some woman, tryzatt, off in those trees," said the second man.
"What the hell d'you mean, a woman?"
"Says she knows the commander; wants to see him. Knew his name an' all. Got a message, she says."
"I'm alone, tryzatt," called Maia. "Can I come and talk to you?"
The tryzatt was evidently a man of fairly quick mind. "Where did you meet the commander?"
"In Bekla, at the barrarz in the upper city, with Lord Bel-ka-Trazet and Lord Ged-la-Dan."
"What's his woman's name, then?"
"Berialtis: brought up on Quiso."
There was a pause.
"Come out steady," said the tryzatt at length, "hands on your head."
Maia did so. The three men confronting her were typical Ortelgans, stocky and dark, the tryzatt, who had a raw, barely-healed scar across his forehead, considerably older than the two soldiers.
"A place like this--how do you come to be here?" he asked, looking her up and down.
"I've no time to explain," answered Maia, with as much authority as she could muster. "My message is urgent, see, and it could very well save your lives. You got to take me to Lord Ta-Kominion at once." As he hesitated, she added more vehemently, "For Cran's sake, what harm do you think I can do? Why else would I be here alone, in the middle of the night--"
"Well, that's what I'd li
ke to know," replied the tryzatt. But as he spoke he gripped her arm, turned and led her away with him.
They went fast through the trees and bushes. Soon Maia became aware that the tryzatt was picking their way among men lying on the bare ground. From what little she could see they were tattered and dirty, with a general look of ill-being. All were fully clothed, with their arms lying ready to hand. Most seemed asleep, but here and there a few, lifting their heads or propping themselves on their elbows, stared as she and the tryzatt went past. None spoke, however, and Maia guessed that their orders about silence were strict. Perhaps, indeed, orders were unnecessary: no doubt Chalcon had been a hard school.
They came to a rough shelter made of branches laid either side of a pole on two forked sticks; hardly more than a kennel, its ridge perhaps three feet from the ground. A sentry was standing beside it. The tryzatt addressed him in a whisper.
"This woman says she's got a message for the commander. Seems genuine enough."
"You're asking me to wake him?"
"That's for you to say."
"Well, be fair," replied the man. "You're the tryzatt, not me."
"You're his orderly, not me."
The man was beginning, "I'd best go and ask Captain Dy-Karn--" when from inside the shelter Ta-Kominion's voice said, "What is it, Klethu?"