Maia

"And that I'm not telling, either. But you can believe me when I say I believe we shall get out. Else I wouldn't be going." Putting his hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him. "If you don't fancy it-and I shan't blame you if you don't-say so now. It'll certainly be safer for you at Hirdo, with my friend."

Rising to her feet, Meris stood looking down at him. At length she said, "You mean I could really help to kill him, myself? I could actually see the bastard die-see the shit pouring out all over his filthy belly? Hear him choking in his blood-"

She stopped, panting and biting on her fingers.

"Steady, now, steady!" said Zirek, grinning. "Well, perhaps there might not be quite enough time for all that. Once it's done we'll have to be off sharp, you know-no fond farewells like you seem to have in mind. But since you're feeling so enthusiastic-"

"Do you remember," cried Meris, "do you remember what I offered you in Sencho's house, the day you gave that pottery cat to the black girl?"

"I wouldn't be likely to forget it," answered Zirek.

"Well, you needn't give me a flask of kepris today," said Meris. "Arid we don't have to be all that quick about it, either."

As he took her in his arms, she felt for the fastening at the neck of her robe, but his hand had reached it before hers.

"I'll come with you," she whispered, as they sank down together on the cloak. "Oh, yes, I'll come with you! Ah! Ah! Ready, weren't you?"

Afterwards, stretched at ease, she asked, "D'you remember how Occula prevented us, that day? I could have killed her. I wanted you then; much as I've ever wanted a man; more."

"I remember," said Zirek. "Well, whatever you may think of her, everything depends on Occula now, I'll tell you that."

"I was afraid of her," said Meris. "She was-well, like a witch, sort of."

"Just so," said the pedlar. "That's what she is. There's some sort of strange power in Occula: that's why she's there. But now; it's a shame to put clothes back on a body like yours, but we have to get to Hirdo tonight, my lass,

and if we want a comfortable bed we'd better be off, for there'll be travelers enough now the rains are over."

"One thing more," he added, as she helped him on with his pack and eased the straps over his shoulders. "What's mine's yours now. I won't come out of Bekla without you- that I promise. You be straight with me and you'll find me straight enough with you."

The party, when Maia and Milvushina arrived at the Barons' Palace on the evening after Occula's strange turn, proved in fact to be given not by Elvair-ka-Virrion-though he and several of his friends were present-but by U-Sarget, a wealthy wine-merchant who stood well with the younger Leopards and was said to have lent money to several of them. Whatever the truth of such rumors, he evidently intended on this occasion to leave no one in doubt that he was a man of means. One of the smaller halls of the palace had been entirely re-hung with new, woven fabrics dyed in contrasting shades of green. At this early time of year few flowers were yet in bloom, but Sarget had procured banks of ferns, overhung with trailing creepers, and thesei-continually sprinkled with water by pretty little girls dressed as different kinds of birds-gave off a scent of herbage and moisture among the tables. Each guest, upon greeting Sarget, was presented with a bronze wine-cup of Gelt workmanship, which was filled then and there from a cask of Yeldashay, so that he or she might drink the host's health. When all the guests had arrived, a choir of boys and girls sang a song of welcome to the returning spring, composed for the occasion by Sarget himself. This anthem having been warmly applauded (it proved, in fact, a lasting favorite, often performed in after-years) the choir left the hall. The musicians, however, remained, and continued to play throughout supper. These were the best in Bekla, for Sarget, money-lender and place-seeker though he might be, was a wholehearted lover of music and himself a good hinnari player-an accomplishment for which he was sometimes sneered at, behind his back, by people who considered such skills appropriate only to slaves or hired professionals.

If Sarget had spent heavily, he had certainly achieved his object-a striking display of taste and style-and in addition had proved lucky in his choice of the day. It was