Maia

"What I'd like? Then what I'd like is simply for you to listen to me for a little while: I'll tell you a story which I dare say you may not have heard, though it's certainly known to the High Counselor. Do you want to hear it?"

"Seeing as you want to tell it to me, my lord."

"When I was born, my mother was a girl little older than you are now. She came from southern Suba-the marshland delta where the Valderra runs into the Zhair-gen. There are more channels there than a cat has whiskers."

Maia, forgetting her annoyance, laughed. "How many's that, then?"

He smiled back. "I don't know, but that's what they used to say when I was a child. Ah! 'When I was a child': we all love the place we come from, don't we? You loved your lake. In Suba the grass grows very tall-as tall as a man-in great swamps, with sheldin trees lining the banks of the channels. Evenings, the sun sets-oh, far away, out beyond Katria-and there are shoals of little silver fish- margets, they're called-that leap out of the water, here and gone, like rain pattering. It's all water-ways there- water-ways and reeds-and the children can paddle a raft almost as soon as they can walk. The Urtans call us marsh frogs: they say that when our enemies come we dive into the water." He laughed. "So we do. People who want to be lost take a lot of finding in that country."

"Lespa of the Stars-didn't she come from there, my lord?"

"So they say. But if she did, she couldn't have been more beautiful than my mother."

He pushed the wine-flagon across to her and waited while she refilled her goblet.

"My mother was a dancer-the most famous and beautiful in all Suba; in all the empire, really. At festival-time men used to travel three, four days' journey just to see her dance. I hardly ever saw her dance, myself; but I've talked to men who did, before she was-before she was married," said Bayub;Otal with emphasis. "That's to say, before I was born, when she was at her greatest as a dancer.

"The baron of southern Suba at that time-Nor-Zavin; he's dead now-he was suspected by the Urtans-I don't know how justly-of secret dealings with Terekenalt, and he badly needed to convince the High Baron of Urtah that he was loyal to him. He sent him all sorts of gifts-unusual, singular things that they'd never seen in Urtah. He knew of my mother, of course. All Suba knew of her. So he bought her from her parents. It was a forced sale: he was a baron, and even though she wasn't a slave they had no real choice, though I suppose you could say it was a fair deal in its way. He paid them far more than she'd have fetched in the hands of men like Lalloc. It kept them in comfort for the rest of their lives." He paused. "Break up this thrilsa for me, Maia, and have some yourself."

Maia did as he asked. The slave returned with the mulled wine, put it down and went out.

"Well," went on Bayub-Otal slowly, "so she was taken away-crying, I dare say-to Kendron-Urtah. And there she danced for the High Baron and his court. Do you know his name?"

"No, my lord, can't say as I do. Is he still alive?"

"Yes, he is. He's sixty-two. His name is Het-Otal-Ecach-lon. At the time I'm speaking of, he was about thirty-four or thirty-five. It's-well, it's always been widely known- that things weren't smooth or happy between him and his wife. She was a Palteshi, very well-born; it was a political marriage. Many a ruler, many a great man in that situation's found himself as badly off, I dare say.

"The High Baron fell deeply in love with my mother. Possibly that may have been Nor-Zavin's idea from the start. But then everyone in Kendron-Urtah was in love with her, really. They still speak of her: she's become a legend."

"What was her name, my lord?" asked Maia.

"Her real name was Astara. But everyone called her 'Nokomis': that means 'The Dragonfly,' you know."

"What tongue's that, then? Never Beklan."

"Old Urtan-hardly anyone speaks it now-only a few peasants up in the north. The High Baron became my mother's lover. He told her," said Bayub-Otal, "and she told me-that he'd never truly loved any other woman in his life. I suppose a lot of people would laugh at that-it's what any philanderer says, isn't it?-but my father always had the reputation of a chaste and upright man. I doubt he'd ever had any other woman apart from his wife.

"My mother loved him as deeply as he loved her; and not just because he was the High Baron, rich and powerful. She understood him. They made each other happy, that was what it came to.