Richard Adams - Maia

"Where are we going?" asked Maia as she climbed in.

" "The Green Parrot,' " said Occula. "Do you know it?"

It was the most luxurious and expensive hostelry in Keril. The idea of her staying there had not even occurred either to Zenka or herself.

"Well, sort of," she said, "but actually I haven't been to Keril all that often. It's quite a long way up north, see, where Zenka and me live."

"What are you doin' here now?"

Maia explained. "And you?"

"I'm with Shend-Lador. Remember him? He's on a diplomatic mission for Santil. What a bit of luck runnin' into you! We're only stayin' here tonight-off to Terekenalt tomorrow. Shenda's goin' to talk to the new king, you see."

"What about?"

"Oh, banzi, doan' be a fathead! How the hell should I know what about? Some sort of trade agreement-frontiers-politics-that sort of bollocks."

"You always used to be political enough."

"I wasn'; I was the vengeance of the gods, for my own personal reasons. That's different; and anyway it's all over. I'm the bouncy girl; remember? Thousand meld a bounce! But I'm well beyond even that now. I'm the black Beklan knockout, dear. Shend-Lador's mistress, richer than forty sheamas on golden beds."

"Oh, Oceula, I'm so glad! You always said you would be."

"Shenda's talkin' to the High Baron of Katria in private this evenin'," said Occula. "So you can come and have supper with me, can't you? You say no and I'll have you knifed and thrown down a well, banzi; I swear I will."

"My little boy-" she was beginning.

"Yes, where have you left him?"

"We're at 'The Keg and Kynat.' My Suban girl's looking after him."

"I'll send Florro with the jekzha to bring them both round to the 'Parrot.' Then he can suck your deldas all the evenin' if he likes, same as old Piggy used to. What's his name?" !

"Zen-Otal: they all call him Anda-Serrelinda."

"Of course. Poor old Bayub-Otal's dead, though, isn't he?"

"Yes, nearly two years ago now. He died saving my life, Occula! I'll tell you all about it over supper. Oh, Cran, I'm so happy to see you! Who'd ever have expected it?"

"Well, here we are," said the black girl, as they drew up in front of "The Green Parrot." "Kantza-Merada, what a dump! Best you can hope for here, I s'pose. Still, at least we've got a set of private rooms; and you'll get a damn' good supper, banzi, I can promise you that; and a nice drop of Yeldashay. We brought some along with us, just to be on the safe side."

Perhaps it was not altogether surprising that Occula had put on weight, thought Maia, herself feeling rather like Sencho as she leaned back against the cushions. During the past two years she had forgotten about suppers like this. The Yeldashay had gone to her head, too, for she was no longer used to it. She felt splendid. They had eaten and drunk and chattered their heads off. At length Occula had dismissed the servants and Maia had recounted all her adventures from the night when her friend had come to her house in Bekla to warn her to get out of the city.

Zen-Otal was fast asleep on another pile of cushions in the corner of the room. Occula had admired him-her unparalleled boy-with polite praise, but was plainly not all that much enraptured. However, Maia had not really

expected that she would be. She realized, now, that motherhood was one of the gods' great tidings to which Occula was simply deaf, and likely to remain so; just as, she remembered, good old Brero, who would never have dreamed of causing her a moment's vexation, had once remarked, "I can tell you all about music, saiyett, in one word: no good." There was no earthly point in letting things like this annoy you: you might as well expect a cat to eat hay. Yet she could remember the time when for her Occula had possessed the wisdom and infallibility of a demi-god-dess. What a shame, she thought, that while Occula had been able to teach her so much, she herself would never be able to communicate to her the first thing about motherhood! She wasn't fool enough to start trying, either. And Occula, she felt sure, must even now be entertaining feelings not unlike her own-what a pity to see her banzi, the one-time Serrelinda, fallen a victim, like all the rest, to the absurd slavery of marriage and maternity!

"I didn' tell you, banzi, did I," said Occula, refilling her goblet and putting her feet up on the supper-table, "that I've got Ogma in my household-have had for over a year? I know she'd want to be remembered to you. I'll give her your love when I get back, shall I?"

"Oh, yes, do! Poor old Ogma-clump! clump! Well, I'll bet she's as happy with you as it's possible for her to be anywhere."

"Of course, I've got more sense than to do what you did, banzi-put her in charge of the place. Nearly cost you your life, didn't it?"

"I suppose you've got some marvelous, charming saiyett, have you?" Maia felt much too replete and happy to take offense.

"Well, yes, I have; but Zuno's the one actually in charge. He'd never dream of leaving me. Well, you never know, of course, but I shouldn' think he would."

"Then Fornis-Fornis didn't take him with her?"

Occula looked up quickly. "Where d'you mean-where to?"

"Wherever she's gone."

For several seconds Occula made no reply. Then, putting her feet down again, she said very quietly and directly, "Banzi, you'd better tell me-how much do you know about-about where Fornis went?"

Maia frowned at her, puzzled. "Well, nothing, I reckon.

We're a bit out of the way here, see. Only old Nasada, that's my doctor from Suba-"

"Yes, I've heard a good deal about Nasada. What did he tell you?"

"Well, he said no one in Suba knew what had become of Fornis; and then he said it seemed strange."

"I'm surprised he hasn' guessed-a man as knowledgeable as that. P'raps he has." She fell silent again, twisting a great gold ring on her finger and apparently deliberating with herself.

"Banzi," she said, looking up suddenly, "if I tell you- everythin'-will you swear by Frella-Tiltheh never to breathe a word-even to your wonderful Katrian husband?"

"Well, of course, dearest, if you ask. But-"

"It's not because I'm afraid of-of anythin' that could come to me from-from livin' men. It's because some things are-well, simply not to be told. But I doan' believe Kantza-Merada would want me not to tell you: not after Tharrin, and not after all we've been through together. When you've heard me out you'll understand. Go on, banzi-swear by Frella-Tiltheh."

"I swear by Frella-Tiltheh the Inscrutable, and by the divine tamarrik seed, never to repeat to anyone what you're going to tell me."

"Good! Listen, then. And you'd better have some more of this Yeldashay, banzi, 'cos you're goin' to need it!"

She refilled Maia's goblet and her own, drank deeply, and began.

"The night you left Bekla, there was fightin' all over the city; the Lapanese, and Fornis's Palteshis. Remember?"

Maia nodded.

"It went on all that night and into the next day. But what finished it was when the Lapanese finally got it through their heads that Randronoth was dead. The news took hours to get round, you see: the fightin' was so confused, all over the place. But once his officers knew for a fact that Fornis and Han-Glat had murdered him, they lost heart. Two of his captains-young Seekron and another man called Mendel-el-Ekna-"

"Ah, he was the one as got us out that night!" said Maia.

"Was he? I'm not surprised: everyone spoke well of him in that business. Well, they got together what was left of the Lapanese and took them back south again. Still, never

mind that for now. I'll come back to that: what I want to tell you about is my part.

"So Form's had the city, and no one to dispute it except Eud-Ecachlon. He was supposed to be holdin' it for Kem-bri, but he was shit-scared, and I doan' blame him, because he hadn' enough men to hope to beat Forms. Those he had he took and shut himself up in the citadel.