Maia

"Through the forest? Well, apart from anything else, you see," said Elleroth, refilling the wine-cups himself (he had dismissed the servants), "we have to stay on the move if we're to keep ourselves in supplies. There aren't a lot of us, it's true-rather less than five hundred, now-and since we got back here we've been able to get stuff sent up from Sarkid. But I can't go on drawing on Sarkid for more than another few days. Then there's the whole question of reward-loot, boodle, plunder and spoil. My men are all volunteers and I haven't paid one of them a meld as yet. They've fought and marched splendidly, but all they've got out of it so far is women. You know that old story, 'Oh, gods, not rape again!' Now that they've blooded themselves on that Elvair-ka-Virrion fellow, what we need is a really impressive exploit, leading to a dramatic victory. Not to mince words, I'd like to be the first heldro into Bekla and send a runner to Santil with the news. You see, he's still got Kembri between him and Bekla, but I've only got Purn. Santil will be taking on Kembri and I shan't be there. So I really ought to have a go at Purn, if only to justify my existence, don't you think? And, of course, cut off Kembri's retreat, if we can."

Bayub-Otal nodded. "Yes, I follow all that. It's only that Zenka and I have had a taste of that forest, and we wouldn't like your to come to any harm."

"Well, I'll have to be the judge of that, won't I?" replied Elleroth a shade brusquely. "I confess I could do with a little more sheer manpower to cut our way through. Still, never mind; that's enough of that. Anda-Nokomis, I really can't wait any longer to learn why you're not dead, and what exactly happened at Rallur."

Bayub-Otal's account lasted some time, though he omitted any reference to what had passed between Zen-Kurel and Maia. Elleroth listened intently and asked several questions. At last he said to Zen-Kurel, "Yes; well, Isee now why my little sally about your swag fell even flatter than most of my efforts. Most unfortunate. No one ever invites me twice, you know. But it certainly is rather mysterious, isn't it? This Serrelinda girl-and now that one's seen her one has to admit she really is all they say: if she

can look like that after two days in the forest, Cran knows what she must have looked like in the upper city-first she makes her fortune by betraying you all to Sendekar on the Valderra, and the next thing you know she nearly loses her life getting the two of you out of prison and out of Bekla. If I hadn't actually met her, I'd be the first to say she'd realized that Fornis was out to kill her and was trying to change sides in time to save her own skin."

"You mean you don't think that?" asked Zen-Kurel.

"Well, somehow it doesn't quite square with the impression I've formed of her, though I can't say exactly why. Tell me, has she herself raised the matter with you at all?"

"No, not at all: not once."

"I mean, she hasn't suggested that since she's saved your lives you might now save hers by writing a nice, cheery letter to Santil, or anything like that?"

"No, nothing like that," replied Zen-Kurel.

"And how has she made out on your little journey? Has she been useful at all since you left Bekla?"

"Well, the plain truth is that without her we wouldn't be here."

"It never occurred to you to slice her into little bits for what she'd done in Suba?"

"It occurred to Zenka," broke in Bayub-Otal, "but to tell you the truth I dissuaded him."

"Why?"

Bayub-Otal paused. Elleroth, perceiving that his hesitation proceeded not from ignorance or uncertainty, but from doubt over whether to speak or to remain silent, was beginning, "If you'd rather not-" when suddenly Bayub-Otal said, "This will have to come out some time or other, so it may as well be now. That night at the farm, Zenka, when you and I talked about Maia, there was something I didn't tell you."

"You mean you and she had already come to some sort of understanding?" Zen-Kurel spoke so sharply that both his hearers were startled.

"No," replied Bayub-Otal, "no, nothing like that. I haven't any-understanding with her. It was something she told me." They waited and he continued, "She'd told me that she and I are kinsfolk; in fact, we're first cousins."

"She told you that?"

"Yes. That evening, at the farm."

"And you believed her?"

"Oh, yes," said Bayub-Otal, "there's no doubt about it at all. She's my mother's sister's daughter, and what she said explains a great deal. I'll tell you how."

He did so, ending, "I can't see how this poor man Thar-rin could possibly have made up that story-or why he'd want to. Besides, it explains not only her extraordinary resemblance to my mother, but also why the Tonildan woman she thought was her mother should have felt able to sell her as a slave."