Anda-Nokomis, seeing a little group of men busy with tackle a short distance away, went up to them and, having greeted them politely, said he wanted to buy a boat stout enough to travel down the river.
This, as Maia could have told him, was a mistake. She herself, if she'd been a man, would have passed the time of day, talked about the com-ing of the rains, asked a few questions about the fishing, repeated a rumor or two of the fighting in Lapan and said nothing at all about boats until someone--either that time or next time--got as far as asking what might have brought her to Nybril.
Oh, ah, they said. A boat? Well. One asked another to chuck him that length of line over there. Did he reckon it could do with a bit more grease rubbed in? Anda-Nokomis, interrupting, asked them whether they knew of anyone who would sell a boat. A boat? Well, now, they couldn't say. There wasn't all that many boats sold, really, not without a man was to die, and not always then. Boats-- well, they nearly always got passed on, didn't they?
But might not someone sell one exceptionally, Anda-No-komis persisted. Well, they hadn't just exactly heard of anything like that; not just lately they hadn't. Every man had his own, you see. Needed it for his living, didn't he?
What was the river like further down, inquired Zen-Kurel. They shook their heads. They didn't really know. None of them had ever been all that far down. It was the getting back, you see, wasn't it? Strong current--well, yes, everyone knew that. Very dangerous for a lot of the year, specially in the rains. Oh, yes, desperate in the rains. Well, and after all, what would anyone be wanting to go down there for?
Quickest way to get yourself drowned. Someone else sucked on a hollow tooth, spat in the water and nodded in corroboration.
With them and with others Anda-Nokomis spent nearly a couple of hours pursuing inquiries. No one was uncivil, though one or two seemed sullen; but always he found himself helpless in the face of that reticent, noncommittal eva-siveness which is the reaction of most remote-dwelling peo-ple the world over to a brisk, direct approach from a stranger. Maia, who had grown up among such people, understood their feelings very well, though she could not have explained them in words. These people depended for a sense of security on doing what they and their fathers had always done in the only place they had ever known. That much they could feel sure of. Anything new or unusual probably had a catch . in it. They were prone to a kind of cryptic envy, too. This stranger, this gentleman was eager for a boat; they had only to do nothing in order to frustrate him. (And indeed after a time, although he retained his courtesy and self-possession, Anda-Nokomis's frustration began to show fairly clearly.) Towards the end of the morning and at about the tenth inquiry, Maia was left in little doubt that their fame was traveling before them.
Once Zen-Kurel, falling into conversation with a couple of youths who were playing wari with colored pebbles in the shade of a tavern wall, and finding them comparatively forthcoming in response to a few jokes and a little banter, asked whether it might not be possible to obtain a passage on one of the rafts coming down the Here from Yelda. Why, yes, they answered. People often travelled down on the rafts, though usually from higher upstream. There wasn't all that many started from Nybril, though. Yes, it was the Here pretty well all the rafts came down: very few down the upper Zhairgen. Lapan and Tonilda didn't go for the same markets downstream--or so they'd always understood. But very likely the gentleman would know more about that than what they did.
But there wouldn't be any more rafts, coming down the Here now. It was the rains, you see, as'd be starting any day. Oh, yes, both the rivers got fair desperate during Melekril. They'd break any raft to bits like you'd break an egg in a pan. 'Twas like the wrath of Cran to see the water going past the rock. You couldn't sleep in your bed at night for the roaring.
By this time Maia was beginning to feel embarrassed and ill-at-ease. She had grasped the situation clearly enough and disliked looking conspicuous and--she suspected-- silly. She could imagine how she herself and Kelsi, only a year or two back, would have stood giggling to watch Anda-Nokomis striding up and down like a pair of shears. Want the truth, this just wasn't a place where boats were to be bought. Any man who made a boat made it for himself; and any family who owned a boat used it and needed it. If anyone was to buy a boat in Nybril, it would be an altogether exceptional transaction, involving probably a few days of preliminary drinking and talk to get a man out of his shell, followed by suggestion, negotiation and bargaining. Zenka, with a little coaching, might be the man for it, but Anda-Nokomis certainly wasn't.
Acting on impulse--well, what the hell, she said to herself, if she didn't need a drink who did and anyway she was past caring about convention--she unobtrusively left Zen-Kurel (Anda-Nokomis was about two hundred yards away, pursuing some line of his own) and went quickly round the corner to the door of the tavern. Now that she was able to view it up and down, it looked a good deal more inviting than one would have expected. It was called "The Butt Inn" and had a sign depicting, on one side, a goat impelling a customer through the door. On the other side, inevitably, were Shakkarn and Lespa, though por-trayed quite decently and even rather attractively, considering that this was Nybril. Both the door, which was standing open, and the shutters had plainly been repainted quite recently and there were boxes of flowers on the window-sills. One or two people were sitting outside on benches. She couldn't hear anything in the way of rowdy noise or low company from inside, and as she paused in the doorway all she could smell was clean sand and baking bread. Nice surprise, she thought: well, here goes.
Maia, of course, was more than used to being stared at. Upon her entry--oops! one step down--she could see very little, her eyes not having adapted from the sunny glare outside. She could sense, however, that a few people were looking at her. At the same time--and this, which was rather puzzling, she perceived distinctly as soon as her sight began to return--they didn't seem particularly bothered or surprised. In the Beklan Empire women seldom went into taverns alone, and if they did were usually either frowned upon or else asked if they would care to step into the back room. Maia had been expecting the latter. On the contrary, however, the atmosphere seemed positively friendly. Two rather prosperous-looking men drinking at a side table smiled and nodded to her, while a big fellow with untidy hair, a slight limp and a clean sacking apron, who was filling a jug from a barrel in the far corner of the room, put it down, came over and asked her politely what he could have the pleasure of getting for her.
Maia's opinion of Nybril began to improve. This was almost up to Beklan standards--lower city, anyway. Why couldn't they have put up here, she wondered, instead of that moldy old "White Roses?"
She ordered a bowl of serrardoes and a good, big jug of Yeldashay. She'd just have a quick cupful herself and then go out and call the others in to join her.
"A big one, saiyett?" said the potman. "Expectin' comp'ny, eh?"
"Why, yes," she smiled. "How did you guess?"
"Oh, I've got second sight," he answered, chuckling in a rather familiar way which slightly annoyed her.
"Won't keep you a moment, saiyett. Just let me know if you want any--er--help, won't you?"
The serrardoes were crisp and fresh and the Yeldashay was at any rate passable. She drank half a cupful and leaned back in her chair, feeling distinctly better. At this moment, looking up, her eye met that of another girl, perhaps two or three years older than herself, who was sitting by herself under the window on the far side of the room. She was a pretty girl, with a good complexion and fair hair, neatly if rather flashily dressed, and she was looking at Maia with a not unfriendly but rather puzzled expression.
Maia, not unnaturally, could tell a shearna when she saw one. That explained everything, of course. The Butt Inn, though obviously not a brothel, must be a place of resort for shearnas, who no doubt paid a commission to the house. Naturally, she had heard of such places, but had never actually been in one before. Plainly the first thing to do was to reassure the girl that she was not going to try to move in
on her territory.
She refilled her cup, stood up and strolled across to the window. She was just about to speak when the girl spoke first.
"She didn't tell me anything about you."
"Who?" asked Maia.
"Well, Almynis, of course. Still, never mind; why don't you come and sit here, with me? Shirgo!" she called to the potman, pointing across to Maia's wine-jug and serrardoes. "Can you bring--" she turned back to Maia-- "What's your name?"
"Maia."
"Oh, yes, everyone calls themselves Maia now, don't they, since the Valderra? What's your real name?"
Maia laughed. "It really is Maia."
The potman brought over her wine-jug and serrardoes and she topped up the girl's cup. She was beginning to have quite a reassuring feeling of old times. Perhaps Nennaunir and Otavis would be dropping by in a minute.
"I suppose Almynis forgot. Or did you only meet her this morning or something?"
"Look," said Maia, "I'll be straight with you. I'm not working here at all, not for Almynis or anyone else. I only got to Nybril last night and I just happened to drop in here for a drink, that's all."
"In herel By yourself?"
"Well, like I said, I'm strange to Nybril: I've had a rather trying morning and I just fancied a drink."
The girl nodded towards her jug. "What, that lot?"
"Well, you see, I'm with a couple of fellows, and they're still doing a bit of business outside. They'll be here in a minute or two. What's your name?"
"Mesca, I'm called." They both smiled. "Mesca" was not a recognized girl's name. It meant "Twilight," a typical shearna's sobriquet.
"Have you been long with this Almynis?" asked Maia.
"Well, nobody has, actually. We're still building up the business, you see--or she is, anyway. She only came here herself about eight or nine months ago; I'm not sure where from, tell you the truth. I was one of her first girls. I've been married, actually, but poor Lindulel--my husband-- he was drowned a couple of years back, and by the time I met Almynis last spring I'd had enough of trying to make ends meet on half of nothings"