Richard Adams - Maia

The next morning was again clear-skied and as hot as ever. Almost every available man, including many of the Or-telgans, had been sent across the river to continue cutting the forest-track under Mollo's direction, and there were not a great many, apart from Elleroth himself, Zirek and Ta-Kominion, to wish god-speed to Maia and her two companions. Their escort-none other than Tolis and tryzatt Miarn, with twenty men-assembled outside Maia's shelter to accompany her to Elleroth's headquarters. They had brought a litter for her, but she smilingly declined it.

"I'd rather walk, and that's no more 'n the plain truth," she said to Tolis. "After all, 'tain't as if it was all that far to Nybril. Tell you what, though; if I get tired, I'll jump in the river and swim."

At this there was a general laugh, for naturally her fame as a swimmer was well-known to everyone. It was not more than twenty miles down river to Nybril, but in view of the heat and his wish to be as considerate as possible to his guests, Elleroth had begged them to take two days over it.

"Why don't we make a raft and just float down?" Maia had asked him at supper the night before.

"A raft for twenty-six people?"

"No, just the three of us."

"You're having an escort because of the very real risk of bandits and cut-throats," he answered. "We can't rule out the possibility of some sort of robbers with boats on the river. That's the sort of thing the Leopards have reduced the empire to. Cran only knows how long it's going to take to restore law and order when we've taken Bekla."

They had given her new shoes and a brand-new cloak and tunic. (She couldn't help wondering where they had come from. The truth was Elleroth had sent to Sarkid for them, about twelve miles each way.) Her Beklan cloak and tunic had been ruined in the forest and the river, but fortunately the new tunic, like the old one, had pockets capacious enough to hold her money and valuables.

She felt in good shape and ready for anything. The most

substantial reason for this-even stronger than the idolization of the soldiers and Elleroth's unconcealed regard- was the complete change in Anda-Nokomis's manner towards her. Often, during those days at the farm, she had felt wretchedly certain that nothing could ever alter his aversion and contempt-no, not if she were to call down Lespa to carry him to Melvda-Rain and crown him with stars. Her deed in Suba, with its terrible (and unintended) consequences, had put her beyond the pale, and all she had done since or ever could do was doomed to be regarded as worthless.

Yet at supper last night she had realized that this had changed. Anything that ordinary people would regard as warmth or cordiality was not really, of course, within Anda-Nokomis's capacity; yet she, who knew him so well, could perceive clearly the alteration of his feelings. She could only suppose that he must have been reconsidering one thing with another-the escape from Bekla, the raft, the waterfall and her night excursion to the Ortelgan camp- and had at last decided to forgive her. She was not to know that in fact it was none of these things which had tipped the scale in that proud, obsessed mind. Maia's disclosure that she was his cousin had brought about in him a turmoil of perplexity. For some days he had been quite unable to decide whether it could or should alter his view of her- whether it ought to make any difference to his condemnation of her unspeakable treachery. Yet nevertheless, within the hour and while he was still very much confused, it had been the real though undivulged cause of his persuading Zen-Kurel against killing her. Only much later did he realize the full significance of the fact that when she had betrayed him to Sendekar she had not herself known either that she was Suban or that they were cousins. If she had known that she was Suban, would she have done it? He had concluded not.

And then, following upon her saving of his life at the waterfall-and beyond all question that had been a brave, loyal deed, for no one could have blamed her if she had judged it impossible to attempt-had come Elleroth's very cogent suggestion that from the moment she had discovered that they were kindreds-that she was a Suban and he her liege lord-she could hardly have risked more or shown greater courage on his behalf.

Yet even all this had not been enough for a man like

Bayub-Otal. What had taken him completely by surprise and finally overcome his last reservations, had been Maia's instant and unhesitating reply to Elleroth that she was a Suban and wanted to go back to Suba. And when Elleroth had hinted at what she must already have realized-she had politely snubbed him and put paid to any further discussion of the matter. Until that moment it had never occurred to Bayub-Otal that when it came to the point Maia, Suban or no, would decline reward and honor from Santil-ke-Erketlis in favor of a hazardous journey to return to Suba and live there. Neither at that time nor throughout the evening had he said one word to express his astonishment; yet he had hardly been able to sleep for its effect. And it was this effect, evidenced by all manner of minute changes in that diffident, haughty man, which Maia was well able to sense and appreciate. Anda-Nokomis, she felt, was now more truly her friend than he had ever been. Might she dare hope to recover yet another friend?

Alas! she was soon made sure that there was little enough prospect of that. Zen-Kurel remained all courtesy and detachment. She was still his responsibility: just that. And that, she felt sure, was the only reason why he had gone out to look for her yesterday, when he had learned that she had set out for the Ortelgan camp. He had regarded it as no more than his duty.

It is perfectly possible-indeed it is common-to be delighted and gratified at one level of the spirit while remaining deeply unhappy at another; and so it was now with Maia. Naturally, the acclaim of the soldiers and the change in Anda-Nokomis had pleased her-she would scarcely have been human if they had not-yet she would gladly have given all in exchange for the longing of her heart.

In truth, she thought dismally, it boiled down to something very simple. It was nothing to do with what she had merited in the past or whatever she might merit now. It was nothing to do with the fortress at Dari-Paltesh or the escape from Pokada's prison; with the rafts or the waterfall or the Ortelgan camp. The plain truth was simply that Zen-Kurel was no longer in love with her. Once he had been and now he wasn't. She loved him but he did not love her.

In such a situation both merit and reason are alike immaterial.

Where love cannot fulfill itself through reciprocity, it can do so only through sacrifice. And this, of course, was the real reason why she had instantly told Elleroth that she was going to Suba and then evaded any discussion either of her motives or of the danger. If it was the last thing she did, she was going to play her part in Zen-Kurel's return to Katria. It might very well be the vital part, too, for a boat would cost money. Besides, did either of them know how to handle a boat? She doubted it. She alone had the money to buy a boat and the skill to sail it down the Zhairgen to Katria. What was going to become of her after that was immaterial. This was high itruth. The low truth would keep till later.

This was her melancholy solace as Zen-Kurel politely greeted her that morning. Yet solace it was, sure enough, to see his obvious hopefulness and the eager spirit with which he discussed the final arrangements with Tolis as they prepared to set out.

She kissed Zirek good-bye with tears.

"I only hope you're doing the right thing, lass," said he. "I suppose you know best; but it's not too late t'o change your mind even now, you know."