Maia

"Oh, banzi," whispered Occula, "you're nice, aren't you? Turn round: let's have a proper look!" Maia turned and faced her. "Oh, Cran and Airtha, what a figure! You'll be worth a fortune, my girl! Just keep your head screwed on right and doan' make a fool of yourself, and you can' go wrong! This may even turn out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you-a lot better than a hut on the Tonildan Waste, I wouldn't wonder. Stick with me, banzi, and before we're done we'll turn Bekla upside down!"

8: KANTZA-MERADA

Occula spent some time in dressing and preparing herself to go downstairs. Maia, despite the misery and anxiety flooding her mind, watched with involuntary fascination as the black girl selected from her chest a Yeldashay-style metlan of brilliant orange, over which she belted on a kind of leather hunting-jacket trimmed with scarlet bows. The whole effect, bizarre and incongruous, was nevertheless most arresting, as though the wearer were a kind of incarnation of fantasy and extravaganza, exempt from all normal sartorial conventions.

Looking up from a battered metal mirror as she finished painting a crimson streak along the outer edge of each eye, Occula winked.

"Interestin', aren't I? Start as you mean to go on. Doan' worry, banzi, you'll be gettin' plenty of nice clothes before you're much older; that's one consolation."

Picking up a shining, golden stud, she fitted it into place through the side of one nostril.

"For now, you'll have to wear the dress that bastard ripped, but put my cloak on over the top. No, not like that, banzi: here, let me help you. Cran! What a shame to cover up a pair of deldas like those!"

When the girls came down into the stone-floored kitchen, it was empty except for the old woman, who was sitting by the fire slicing a pile of brillions. By daylight she looked still more sleazy. Even by Maia's standards she was dirty, and had on one cheek a weeping sore. Occula stood looking her up and down without a word, until at length the old woman, plainly annoyed but apparently wary of provoking the black girl, made shift to save her face by looking briefly at the remaining brillions and remarking, "Well, that's enough o' them, I reckon. And I suppose now you want something to eat, miss, is that it, after sending back what Megdon took you up earlier?"

"This place is filthy," said Occula, "and so are you. We'll stick to boiled eggs and fruit, and boiled milk to drink."

"Why, you little bitch," retorted the old woman, "you just wait till they sell you up in Bekla! They'll soon teach you to mind your tongue there, you black-faced tart-"

"You were a tart once," replied Occula calmly. "But you mustn' judge me by yourself, you know. I'm goin' to be much more successful and finish up a lot better off. When I'm your age I shan' be crawlin' about in a pile of shit, slicin' brillions for slave-traders."

"Basting hell!" shouted the old woman, rushing at her and swinging back her arm. Occula caught her by the wrist, gripped it for a few moments and then pushed it gently back to her side.

"It's no good, grandma," she said, not unkindly. "Just do as I ask you and let's have no trouble, shall we? Come on, now; eggs, milk and fruit."

"There's no fruit," snapped the old woman, turning away.

"The garden's full of it," said Occula. "Ripe, too. Banzi, go out and pick some, will you?"

"No, she won't!" cried the old woman. "Think we let you little whores go wandering about outside just as you like? D'you know what 'slave' means, miss, eh?"

"You'd better go yourself, then," said Occula. "You used to be a whore-and a slave. I'm goin' to be a shearna- and in the upper city, too."

"D'you think I'm running your errands, miss?" screamed the old woman. "You'll eat what you're given or else go without, you black cow-"

In a flash Occula had snatched up the peeling-knife. At the same moment Megdon, entering the room, reached her in three strides, plucked it out of her hand and threw it into a corner.

"Easy now, Occula," said the slave-trader. "You're getting a lot too handy with knives, you know. What's the row?"

Occula stood impassively beside the table as the old woman began a shrill tirade of explanation and abuse. It was plain, however, that Megdon was only half-listening. At length, shrugging his shoulders, he said, "Well, if she wants some fruit you'd better go and get her some. I'll stay here with them till you come back."

The oldwoman seemed about to argue: then, muttering, she took up a basket and shuffled out of the room.

Megdon turned back to Occula, who had flung back her leather jacket and, her hands behind her on the table, was leaning backwards, her body arched from the hips. As he took a step towards her she said, "Do you want this little girl to watch? Is that what you like?"

"It would be easier to go upstairs, wouldn't it?" answered Megdon. "What are you charging this time, Occula? Too much, if I know anything about it."

"You bugger, I haven' charged you a meld yet," said Occula.