year or two back, would have stood giggling to watch Anda-Nokomis striding up and down like a pair of shears. Want the truth, this just wasn't a place where boats were to be bought. Any man who made a boat made it for himself; and any family who owned a boat used it and needed it. If anyone was to buy a boat in Nybril, it would be an altogether exceptional transaction, involving probably a few days of preliminary drinking and talk to get a man out of his shell, followed by suggestion, negotiation and bargaining. Zenka, with a little coaching, might be the man for it, but Anda-Nokomis certainly wasn't.
Acting on impulse-well, what the hell, she said to herself, if
Maia, of course, was more than used to being stared at. Upon her entry-oops! one step down-she could see very little, her eyes not having adapted from the sunny glare outside. She could sense, however, that a few people were looking at her. At the same time-and this, which was rather puzzling, she perceived distinctly as soon as her sight began to return-they didn't seem particularly bothered or surprised. In the Beklan Empire women seldom went into taverns alone, and if they did were usually either frowned upon or else asked if they would care to step into the back room. Maia had been expecting the latter. On the contrary, however, the atmosphere seemed positively friendly. Two rather prosperous-looking men drinking at
a side table smiled and nodded to her, while a big fellow with untidy hair, a slight limp and a clean sacking apron, who was filling a jug from a barrel in the far corner of the room, put it down, came over and asked her politely what he could have the pleasure of getting for her.
Maia's opinion of Nybril began to improve. This was almost up to Beklan standards-lower city, anyway. Why couldn't they have put up here, she wondered, instead of that moldy old "White Roses?" She ordered a bowl of serrardoes and a good, big jug of Yeldashay. She'd just have a quick cupful herself and then go out and call the others in to join her.
"A big one, saiyett?" said the potman. "Expectin' comp'ny, eh?"
"Why, yes," she smiled. "How did you guess?"
"Oh, I've got second sight," he answered, chuckling in a rather familiar way which slightly annoyed her. "Won't keep you a moment, saiyett. Just let me know if you want any-er-help, won't you?"
The serrardoes were crisp and fresh and the Yeldashay was at any rate passable. She drank half a cupful and leaned back in her chair, feeling distinctly better. At this moment, looking up, her eye met that of another girl, perhaps two or three years older than herself, who was sitting by herself under the window on the far side of the room. She was a pretty girl, with a good complexion and fair hair, neatly if rather flashily dressed, and she was looking at Maia with a not unfriendly but rather puzzled expression.
Maia, not unnaturally, could tell a shearna when she saw one. That explained everything, of course. The Butt Inn, though obviously not a brothel, must be a place of resort for shearnas, who no doubt paid a commission to the house. Naturally, she had heard of such places, but had never actually been in one before. Plainly the first thing to do was to reassure the girl that she was not going to try to move in on her territory.
She refilled her cup, stood up and strolled across to the window. She was just about to speak when the girl spoke first.
"She didn't tell me anything about you."
"Who?" asked Maia.
"Well, Almynis, of course. Still, never mind; why don't you come and sit here, with me? Shirgo!" she called to
the potman, pointing across to Maia's wine-jug and ser-rardoes. "Can you bring-" she turned back to Maia- "What's your name?"
"Maia."
"Oh, yes, everyone calls themselves Maia now, don't they, since the Valderra? What's your real name?"
Maia laughed. "It really is Maia."