Thereupon the saiyett led Maia through the courtyard and up a different staircase, which led into a long gallery. Brilliantly-colored, woven hangings covered the whole length of the wall opposite the windows, and in front of these, at regular intervals, stood seven jewelled and painted statues representing the gods and goddesses worshipped throughout the empire: Cran, his hair cloven with hght-ning, his arms lifted in the act of parting the sky from the earth; Airtha of the Diadem, big-bellied and smiling, suckling a crowned infant at each golden breast; Shakkarn, horned and hoofed with topaz, his bearded mouth frothing sulphur as he thrust forward like a spear his ruby-headed zard; white Lespa, a rippling, floating vision of mercy, crowned with stars and bending forward in the act of scattering dreams from her opal-studded basket upon the sleeping earth; Shardik the bear, his eyes two smoldering garnets, one huge, clawed paw raised to smite as he ramped upon his terraced Ledges; Canathron, glaring from a thicket of copper flames and raising aloft his serpent's head and condor's wings; and lastly Frella-Tiltheh the Inscrutable, cowled, her face invisible, poised on Crandor's summit as she pointed with one lean finger to the tamarrik seed sprouting at her feet.
Maia, following her guide and stealing past these tremendous presences in so much awe that she scarcely dared
to glance at them-for if asked, she would not have been at all sure that they did not embody the actual deities themselves-came to a dark-and-light, zig-zag-panelled door which recalled to her the decorated walls of the dining-hall above. Here the saiyett stopped and, turning to Maia with a smile, made her a little, ironical bow as she held open the door with one bare, white arm.
"Is-is the Lord General there?" whispered Maia.
"No," answered the woman. "You go in and wait, and he'll come." And then, looking her up and down and speaking in a tone which made it clear that she was paying a playful compliment, "I shouldn't think he'll keep you waiting very long."
Maia felt her self-possession swaying like a tree in a gale. For a moment she clasped the other's hand.
"Saiyett-oh, I'm all of a shake-only it's the first time, see, and I don't rightly know-"
The woman's laugh, though condescending, was nevertheless kindly.
"You're lucky, then, Maia, in your first time, for I can tell you, you won't find any difficulty with the Lord General." And then, as Maia stared back, uncertain what she might mean, she nodded and gave her hand a little pat. "In you go. You'll soon see!"
She had not been altogether correct, however, in saying that Kembri would not be in the room, for just as Maia went in at the panelled door the Lord General entered through another on the further side. She had no opportunity to take in her surroundings or to become aware of more than a sense of spaciousness, luxury and warmth in the carpeted room. Indeed, she had no time even to utter a word (which was perhaps as well, for she had not the least idea what to say) before Kembri, taking four strides across the room, lifted her bodily in his arms and laid her down on the great, soft bed.
After that it took her no time at all to grasp what the saiyett had meant. As the Lord General's partner she was required to do nothing whatever but submit. He simply did as he wished, with an unhurried yet urgent and almost impersonal power like that of a river in spate, for he-or so it seemed-had little more control over their course than she had. Having seen him before only from a little distance, she had not fully realized what a huge man he was, or how overwhelming was his mere presence. Grim,
black-browed and black-bearded, even when naked he somehow seemed invisibly armored and girt with weapons. They had hardly begun before Maia intuitively grasped a paradox which unexpectedly wanned her heart and restored her confidence. In this voracious, intence silence, this total absence of any courtly attempt to show the least regard for either her inexperience or her pleasure, lay a greater intensity of sheer desire than she had yet encountered. Caught up in this driving storm, she did not fully realize that he had not spoken. She knew only that she liked what was happening. Tharrin had been accustomed to laugh and pay little compliments as he went about his pleasure. Sencho was full of snorting demands for one lewdness after another. This, though not brutal, was raw appetite, unashamed and unreflecting. She was being devoured. She writhed, half-crushed beneath the panting weight, and one of Occula's sayings flashed across what remained of her mind. "The man wants the girl. But the girl usually wants the man to want her." "Dear Lespa,