Maia

Apart from all this magnificence, she intuitively sensed about Zuno a novel and (to her) puzzlingly strange kind of detachment-a detachment, as it were, of inward inclination as well as of outward manner-which daunted her because it lay outside her experience and she could not understand it. During the past year or so Maia had unconsciously become used to being looked at and spoken to by men in a certain way. The way, while it might take this form or that, always implied-as she very well knew- that they found her attractive and were in no hurry to get out of her company. The behavior of neither Perdan nor the vile Genshed had been out of accord with this: that is to say, while hating and fearing them, she had known only too well what they were feeling about her.

There was, however, something inexplicable about Zuno; something which confused her in a way that Genshed had not. He was like another order of being-a feathered reptile or a three-legged bird. His manner towards Occula and herself was one of detachment, and this stemmed-or so she sensed-less from superiority of social distance than from some curious absence of natural inclination. At first she could only suppose that the unexpected task thrust upon him by Megdon-a task which he could not very well refuse, since he was in Lalloc's employment and traveling to Bekla-was extremely unwelcome to him. But then it occurred to her that perhaps this might be what everyone was like in Bekla, for she had less idea of what people were like in Bekla than of what it might be like at the bottom of Lake Serrelind.

Worst of all, the man seemed to subdue even Occula. Upon their arrival the black girl had at once adopted an

entirely different bearing from that with which Maia had watched her dominate the household at Puhra. As Zuno- looking up from stroking the cat and picking his teeth with a carved splinter of bone which he took out of a leather case-gave them his instructions, the black girl stood with downcast eyes, murmuring only "Yes, sir" or "Very well, sir," and at length, as he turned back to his meal, raising her palm to her forehead and leaving the room without a word.

The innkeeper, though under orders to lock the girls into one of the rooms used for slaves in transit, affably brought them half a jar of wine with their supper and remained chatting for some little while, until tartly called by his wife to resume the evening's duties. Later a shy, smiling wench brought up hot water, but they were allowed no lamp. "Dare say they're afraid we might try to burn the damn' place down and run away," said Occula, climbing into bed. "How d'you fancy goin' up to Bekla with that sonsy little wafter and his pussy-cat, banzi?"

"I can't make him out," replied Maia dolefully. "I don't fancy him at all!"

The black girl chuckled. "Be terrible if you did, wouldn't it? But banzi, if you start lettin' fairies like that get you down, you're not the girl I took you for. Anyway, let's get to sleep. I'm worn out, aren't you?"

Maia fell asleep to the sounds of the tavern below- murmurs of conversation, the clink of pots and vessels, footsteps, closing doors, an occasional raised voice calling to a servant. Despite these, she slept heavily and did not stir for several hours.

When she woke the room was in darkness. Was it still early in the night, she wondered, or near dawn? She got up and went across to the barred window. The stars shone bright. There was not a trace of dawn in the sky, and no sound either from the inn or the road below. It must be' well after midnight. Everyone, everything was asleep but she. She was alone with her personal loss of all that had once made life familiar and secure, of her home and of all those upon whom she had ever relied for comfort and affection. She would never again make her way home, with the old, familiar hunger in her belly and the certainty of what tomorrow would bring. One of her mother's mordant sayings returned to her mind most bitterly: "Never's a long time."

What will become of me? she thought. What does it mean, to be a slave? How will the days be spent-what sort of people will be around me? And then, like the half-child she still was, "Is there anything nice at all to look forward to?" No, there was nothing-nothing. The future was a black pit: and Maia, leaning her forehead on the window-sill, covered it with hopeless tears.

"Banzi!"

Maia jumped, for once again the black girl had made no sound. Turning Maia away from the window, she clasped her in her arms and rocked her gently, stroking her hair as she continued to weep with great, shuddering sobs. At length Occula whispered, "Come back to bed, banzi. No sense standin' here. Least you got a bed. And you got me-'less you doan' fancy."

Leading Maia to her own bed, she got in beside her. For some little time they lay unspeaking. Slowly, Maia's weeping ceased, her tears though not her misery exhausted. At length Occula said "Why didn' you wake me?"

"I-I didn't think-you said-tough and cunning-"