Maia

A few hours later, as night fell with only the briefest of twilight, Maia realized that in the forest, darkness called forth another world. Here, human order was reversed. Daylight was the time appointed by the god for concealment, inaction and sleep. In daylight he was sole, a presence absorbing his creatures into himself, sheltering them from the intrusion of that upstart, the sun. At nightfall he became manifold, breathing into them his fell, rapacious spirit, so that they became as he, indifferent to fear, suffering and death, intent only upon obeying his will. They must kill and eat, for with the renewal of day it was decreed that they should return once more into the single essence of their master. Kill-be killed: eat-be eaten: which, mattered little. This was their pursuit and calling, and they were impelled to it without power of decision.

Zirek still had his pedlar's fire-making tools-quartz, iron and sulphur-and had little trouble in transferring the flame to a heap of dry grass. Soon their sticks were burning

well, and Maia and Meris joined the men in dragging up fallen branches and logs. Having no axe, they set the logs to burn at one end, pushing them forward into the blaze as they were consumed. Neither Bayub-Otal nor Zen-Ku-rel said anything about turns on watch, and Maia guessed that the three men had already come to some arrangement among themselves.

When she had eaten the few mouthfuls that were her share of supper, she wrapped herself in her cloak and lay down to sleep. Yet tired out as she was, sleep would not come. She was hungry; her head ached; her belly hurt. Her flux had come on strongly and there was nothing clean or dry to put between her legs. But these discomforts were as nothing compared with her terror of the forest and the thought of the morrow. I can't go on, she thought. Even if no one'll come with me, I'll go back to the farm alone. Yet she knew very well that she could not attempt it.

The active night was full of wild, disturbing cries. From somewhere far off sounded a many-voiced clamor which must, she thought, be the howling of wolves. As she lay listening to this and trying to guess how distant it might be, there came from close by a deep, mewling cough, repeated several times. She turned faint with fear. At supper-parties in the upper city she had once or twice listened to Beklan hunters' stories of the great cats. An armed man, someone had told her, stood iio least chance against one of these creatures, and hunters invariably left them alone in their wild, forest territories, which, he had added, it was their nature to defend fiercely against intruders.

Looking out into the darkness she could see, here and there, eyes reflecting the firelight-some glowing red, others white or green. There seemed a continual coming and going of eyes between the trees. They were being watched. How could these watchers be anything but hostile? And they themselves-what could they do against them? Nothing; and this was the worst of her fear. Danger is far harder to bear when one can neither retaliate nor fly.

Meris was sleeping as soundly as a child. How strangely contradictory people often were, thought Maia. Meris, the agent of so much pointless, destructive trouble, had been composed and cooperative all day; unsmiling, but also uncomplaining and performing promptly whatever was asked of her. Probably the men felt less encumbered by Meris than by herself.

Zirek was on watch, pacing slowly up and down on the opposite side of the fire as he looked out into the darkness. In one hand he was carrying his bow and an arrow, but seemed not so much tense as simply wary. On impulse she got up and walked round to him, conscious of the fouled cloth chafing between her legs. He nodded and smiled but said nothing.

"Zirek," she whispered, "how are we going to get out of this?"

He raised his eyebrows, feigning surprise.

"Why, your chap's going to get us out, isn't he?"

"My chap?" She was vexed. She did not,want teasing.

"Well, the man you love, then. But he has been your lover, even if he isn't now."

"Oh, don't be silly, Zirek! It really makes me angry to hear you go on like that. Why, he hates me! He thinks I tricked him and deceived him."

"Maybe he does: but he's still in love with you, even if he wishes he wasn't."

"How do you know that? He's never told you so, I'm sure."

"No, but I can tell. A man can tell, you know.".

"How?"

"I don't know, but you can." He paused. "Well, for a start, the way you treated each other at the farm."

"But Anda-Nokomis-he's just as angry with me for swimming the river."

"I know, but he hasn't been your lover. He's just in love with you: that's different."

"What? Zirek, whatever do you mean? I never heard such nonsense!"