Richard Adams - Maia

"There's a room through there," she said, "but we'll have to be quick. She'll be back soon."

Occula, stepping forward, picked up her cloak.

"I'm only new roun' here," she said to Meris, "and Cran knows I hate to spoil a bit of fun. But even more would I hate to see you both hangin' upside-down; and make no mistake, that's what it'll be if she comes back and catches you. Come on, Zirek, get your pack in one hand and your zard in the other and get out of here."

"Damn you, Occula!" shouted Meris. "What the basting hell's it got to do with you?"

As Occula held her by the shoulders she struggled fiercely, twisting her head round and trying to bite her hand. "Why can't you get her off me?" she cried to the pedlar, stamping her foot. "Don't you want to baste me? There's plenty'd like to who can't, I'll tell you that!"

"O Cran preserve us!" said Occula. "Meris, haven't you got any blasted sense at all? She'll be back any minute, you little hot-tairth idiot! Zirek, get out, go on, or I'll go and fetch the porter myself, damned if I doan'!"

At this moment Meris, who seemed completely beside herself, swung back one of her shod heels and kicked Occula on the shin. Occula, cursing with pain, slapped her

as hard as she could, and as the girl sank to her knees once more gripped her under the shoulders.

"It's the heat," said the black girl, rubbing her bleeding shin against her other calf. "Come on, banzi, help me get her into her bedroom. For the last time, Zirek, will you get out?"

The two girls carried Meris bodily out of the room. Once they had put her on her bed she lay there quietly, her head thrust between two cushions. When they returned the pedlar had gone.

"Now that just shows you, banzi," said Occula, "how easy it is to go on your ruin just because you itch and mustn' scratch. That girl's pretty enough to make a fortune, but she'll come to a bad end, you mark my words! Can you imagine what would have happened if old Ter-ebinthia had come back just in time for a nice, private kuraT

"What's a kura?" asked Maia.

"Oh, give me patience!" said Occula. "A kura's when boys and girls are set to do it openly, at a party or a banquet, to amuse the ladies and gentlemen and get them going. Doan' worry, you'll see plenty before long. But if we'd had to admit that we knew what Meris was doin' and hadn' tried to stop her, we'd have been lucky to get off with a whippin'; and as for Meris herself-"

The beads clicked: Terebinthia was once more in the room. As the girls turned to face her she picked up a towel to wipe her sweating face and neck.

"The pedlar's gone?" she asked at length.

"Yes, saiyett."

"And where is Meris?" Terebinthia's tone was rather sharper.

"Gone to lie down, saiyett: the heat, you know."

Terebinthia paused. Her silence exuded a kind of suspicion and menace. Maia, realizing that very little escaped her and that that was one reason why she had risen to her position in this world where she herself must now live, felt afraid.

"Well," said Terebinthia, with a certain air of deciding on balance to leave something unsaid, "that will be-quieter, I dare say."

She paused again: the girls waited silently.

"I've just been talking with the High Counselor," she resumed at length. "He tells me he has been advised from

the temple that the rains are almost certainly going to set in before morning."

"Good news, saiyett," said Occula.

"And if they do," continued Terebinthia, ignoring her, "the Lord General will be holding his customary banquet tomorrow night. The High Counselor will be attending, of course. He wishes Meris to accompany him, and also you, Maia, so that you can gain some experience."

"Me, saiyett? But-"

"And now I wish to see Meris," said Terebinthia. "No, Occula, you needn't bring her here: I'll go and talk to her in the bedroom. Pehaps by this time she'll be finding the- er- heat less troublesome."

"Oh, we'll take good care to keep on the right side of her, banzi!" said the black girl, holding the pottery cat up to the light and turning it this way and that. "If she was jus' to take a dislike to one of us, I doan' believe she'd stop at anythin', do you?"

In the midst of the dry, tawny plain Bekla, at the foot of Crandof's slope, lay like a tilted stone on the bed of a pool. For weeks the pool had been land-locked; the air inert, unstirring, so that no flow (one might imagine), even the most sluggish, could take place above its towers or across the long walls. Sometimes, indeed, it seemed to move a little, back and forth, with a turgid languor caused by no wind; perhaps by the jostling of sweating bodies or the babel of voices, just as still water round a stone might momentarily be troubled, before settling once more, by the passing of some weary, trapped fish.

Beyond the city, harvest was ended and summer hung dry and empty as a husk. The little herd-boys lay in the shade, paying no heed to cattle too listless to stray from the banks of shrunken rivers where the baked mud could afford them no relief. The work of the world was to wait for rain, and weary work it was-heavier even than the thundery cloud-banks piling up, day after day, above the Tonildan mountains a hundred miles to the east.

Slowly, as though their mass were too great for even the gods to move without exertion, these clouds began to

advance westward above the plain; and below them went a mist white as wool, creeping through the treetops of the Tpnildan forest, moving silently on across the expanse of Lake Serrelind, thickening among the hovels of Puhra and Hirdo. And behind the mist, at first indistinguishable from it, came rain; a rain that joined the mist to the clouds, so that everything-villages, roads, huts in fields, boats on rivers-was isolated first by mist, then by rain, and at last by mud. Yet villagers, travelers, farmers, fishermen-all were prepared, forewarned by the fleecy mist, its approach visible for miles as it billowed up and over the low saddles between the ridges of the plain and flowed down to fill the hollows below. This isolation was relief, deliverance at last from the arid remnant of summer, a warrant to sit idle and cool under a roof while outside, far and wide, further than the eye could see, the gods went about their share of the world's work so that in time man might return to plow, sow and graze cattle once more.

The rain, advancing out of the mist, fell with a quiet hissing upon dried grass, trees and dusty roads. At last the soft, slow wind which bore it reached and flowed over Bekla itself, spilling currents of cool air through its streets and alleys. Everywhere sounded pattering and trickling. Soon the gutters were flowing, the winking surface of the Barb was almost visibly rising and fountains which had stood dry for weeks began to spout water. Householders, opening their windows, sat by them silently, watching and smelling the rain in rapt contentment, while the homeless beggars, gathering in the colonnades, spat and nodded together, their sores and scabs eased by the moist coolness. Sencho, drowsing in the bath, woke at the long-awaited sound and, erecting with pleasure, sent for Occula and Meris to join him. Fleitil and his journeymen-assistants, having made their wedges and blocks firm round the base of the new statue of Airtha by the Tamarrik Gate, covered it with a canvas tarpaulin, packed their tools and set off for the nearest tavern, there to drink to the prospect of two months' profitable studio work under cover.

As evening began to fall Durakkon, standing at one of the east-facing windows of the Barons' Palace, watched the mist top the low ridge four miles away and inch down the slope, obliterating yard by yard the highway to Thettit. He could make out no single traveler on the road, but this was not surprising. Travelers would be unlikely to have