Maia

She raised her head. A little girl, perhaps six or seven years old, was standing on the grass near-by, looking them over with a self-possessed air. She herself certainly merited a glance. She was slim, dark-eyed and dark-haired, with a long, straight, intelligent nose and something strikingly graceful and vivacious in her manner, as though, like a warbler in the spring trees, she could not keep still, but must be constantly moving in response to everything round her. She was bare-footed and dressed in a makeshift, gray tunic, on the skirt of which some colored beads had been stitched-by herself, it looked like. She was carrying a length of old cord and, in the few moments while she waited for Maia to answer her, swung it two or three times, skipping first on one foot and then the other. Indeed, she seemed so full of vitality that Maia half-expected her to go bouncing away without waiting for a reply. As suddenly as she had begun, however, she stopped skipping and stood looking down with a pert air which suggested that she thought it was about time she was answered.

Maia laughed. "Yes, we're new. What's your name?"

"Melathys," said the child. She skipped again. "My name's Melathys. I knew you were new, knew you were new!" She was plainly gratified to find herself right. "You weren't at Orthid, were you?"

"Where's Orthid?"

"Where we were before the soldiers came." She sat

down beside Maia. "The soldiers killed Snekkeron, and then they took us all away."

"Who was Snekkeron?"

"The dog-man-the top man at Orthid. He used to walk about with a big, white dog. Then anyone did anything he didn't like, he used to tell the dog to bite them."

"Did the soldiers kill the dog, too?"

"I don't know," said Melathys. "What's your name?"

"Maia."

"And where are you going?"

"I don't know."

"Oh, haven't they told you yet? When are they going to?"

"How d'you mean?" asked Maia.

"Well, we're all going to different places. But you see-" and here the little girl, bending forward, looked at Maia bright-eyed, with the obvious self-satisfaction of one about to impart something which will establish her as superior and enviable. This must have been why she had raised the subject. "I'm going to a special place-a holy place. They chose me to go!"

"How marvelous for you!" said Maia. "Where is it?"

"It's called Quiso," replied Melathys. "Quiso of the Ledges. So I shall be a Ledge myself when I'm grown up."

"You mean a priestess, don't you?"

"Bria's going too," said Melathys quickly (to avoid accepting the correction, or so it seemed to Maia). "We're going with Captain Muzarkalleen. He was hurt in the fighting, but they'll make him better at Quiso, you see."

She looked at Zen-Kurel, lying supine on the grass nearby.

"You belong to him, don't you?" she asked.

"No," answered Maia. To her annoyance she felt herself coloring once more.

"To him, then?" asked the child, looking at Bayub-Otal.

"No."

Melathys looked puzzled. "She does belong to you, doesn't she?" she asked Zen-Kurel. "She's pretending, isn't she?"

"Here," said Maia desperately, "I'll teach you a new game if you like."

"Standing up, she took the little girl in her arms and as best she could-for she was quite a weight-began tossing her up and down.

"Bring me my dagger and bring me my sword. Melathys the lady to go by my side. I'm off to Bekla to meet the great lord-"

But at this point, as once before, she was interrupted. Tolis had come out of the hut and the others were on their feet. She kissed Melathys and put her down.

"I'll have to go now. Good-bye: I hope you'll be very happy at Quiso."

The little girl ran off through the sunset light. Maia, looking back as she went towards the door of the hut, saw her turn and wave before she disappeared round one of the shelters.

92: ELLEROTH EXPRESSES AN OPINION

Immediately inside the hut was a kind of miniature anteroom or lobby, its walls made of thin, wooden partitions. Here weapons, shields, cloaks, boots, belts and every kind of military gear were hanging on nails or laid out on the floor. It was all neatly disposed, however; the floor was sanded and clean and the general impression was of preparedness rather than disorder. On the far side of this improvised antechamber was another entrance, covered with a curtain made of old cloaks stitched together. This had been half drawn aside by a tall young man, who was standing in the aperture and regarding them intently, though with a cordial smile.