Maia

"Not a bit of it! The men are all convinced they're going to be looting Bekla in two weeks from now. That's what they've marched and fought all the summer for-to line their pockets. Offer Dectaron twenty lashes and Lortil twelve. They'll take them; you'll see. And it'll be very good for morale, Elleroth, believe me, when word gets round that you and I evidently think discharge now would be a punishment as bad as a flogging. The men'll all be sure that you must know for certain we're on the point of taking Bekla, that's it."

"Very well: I agree," said Elleroth. He became pensive once more. "Poor Meris! You've told us, Zirek, that she enjoyed making trouble. She certainly managed it this time, but it was rather expensive for her, wasn't it? And to think she only had to wait a little while to be rich and secure for the rest of her life! Human nature's a strange thing." He stood up. "Well, we'd better go and finish our job, I suppose-which I don't relish."

"Nor I ours," murmured Zirek. Elleroth looked up at him inquiringly, and he said, "Someone's got to tell Maia."

Bayub-Otal and Zen-Kurel exchanged a glance. There was a short silence.

"I suggest all three of us go together," said Zen-Kurel.

Meris burned at nightfall, her pyre surrounded by hundreds of pitying onlookers, for the women and children had been brought back from the other side of the river and many of the Ortelgans, more than content with Ta-Kominion's news of his negotiations with Elleroth, had already come over to the Sarkidian camp to fraternize. Untimely death, of course, was nothing out of the ordinary either to the soldiers or the ex-slaves, but throughout the camp there had been much talk of the beautiful girl, a guest of the commander, who had succeeded in a desperate exploit for the heldril and been on her way to Santil-ke-Erketlis to receive her reward. Fanned by hearsay, indignation had spread against the men responsible for her death,

until Mollo obtained Elleroth's consent to assemble his own company-the culprits' comrades-and tell them the rights of the matter before having the punishment inflicted (for, as he had guessed, both declined discharge and even accepted the alternative with some relief, since the possibility of being hanged for murder had been doing nothing for their peace of mind).

As the ceremony of the burning began-four soldiers, each with a resinous torch, standing to the corners of the pyre to set light to it simultaneously-Zirek moved quietly away from the group round Elleroth and stood apart, gazing intently as the blaze spread inward. Maia, overcome with grief and by the majesty and solemnity of the occasion, did not notice that he had left her side. It was only later, after Elleroth had stepped forward to throw the appointed grain, salt and wine upon the embers; after the people had begun to disperse and Bayub-Otal and Zen-Kurel had taken their places on either side of the commander as part of his recessional escort, that she caught sight of him standing solitary, with bowed head and folded arms.

She made her way to him and stood unspeaking by his side. They were alone, for Elleroth's officers, in accordance with custom, had formed two files behind him as he made his departure.

After a little Zirek said, "She had more courage than anyone I've ever known-except for Occula. She never flinched that night, never hesitated, never showed any fear e: her before or after. I couldn't have done it without her, you know."

"And I couldn't have done what she did: I know that."

"Killing Sencho-that was vital, you see. The Leopards' whole intelligence system fell to pieces. I wonder whether anyone in years to come will remember her name and what she did."

"The gods will remember."

"The gods? You'd wonder sometimes, wouldn't you? She's forfeited everything; and who-what-drove her to that but the gods?"

"You know, Zirek, somehow I feel Meris would have undone herself one way or another, even if she'd been given a fortune."

"Maybe; but there she is now. Forty-two meld and a bonfire. Not even a tarpli-not from these strangers."

"I never thought of the tarpli," said Maia. "Do they have them in Belishba same as we do in Tonilda?"

"Of course."

The tarpli, though not universal throughout the Beklan empire, was a tribute of obsequy rendered throughout Tonilda and certain other provinces. A poem or verse mourning the dead person and recalling his or her life and character would be composed by some relative or friend and sung or declaimed as the pyre burned low. Often, among simple people in the country villages, it would be rough doggerel enough, but nevertheless might well have taken the maker a deal of trouble and be offered with sincere feeling. Maia had composed one in her own mind for Tharrin, though only Lespa had been permitted to hear it.

"I made one up for her," said Zirek, "but no one said anything about a tarpli and I didn't care to put myself forward among these officers with their fine ways."