Maia

After the four of them had been talking and drinking together for no more than a few minutes, one of the men, obviously eager to get in ahead of his companion, asked Maia point-blank how much she wanted for her favors. It was like "The Bow and Quiver" at Khasik over again, only this time there was no Zuno-and no Occula.

There was no timid little Tonildan peasant-girl, either. The Serrelinda, of course, was fully up to handling a contingency of this sort, and was about to do so when Mesca, obviously with the kindly intention of sparing a younger girl embarrassment, weighed in on her behalf. She repeated the joke about being a flesh-and-blood proclamation, and then explained to the men that while there were no facilities on the premises, she was the living proof that if they cared to go a little way upstream to Almynis's house on the riverside they could, at a most reasonable price, have more pleasure than they had ever imagined possible. Thereupon, the first man immediately asked Maia whether she personally would be there.

Maia had no wish to upset Mesca, to whom she had taken rather a liking, or to spoil business for an honest if somewhat rustic shearna. She smiled and said well, she might, she wasn't sure. You see, there was a gentleman as had particularly asked her to visit him that afternoon- she couldn't tell quite how long she'd be. It really was very nice at Almynis's, though, she could assure them.

After a few more minutes the men, having grasped that this was a case of somewhere else and later on, took themselves off, assuring Mesca that she was a fine girl and they'd be seeing her later, and her pretty friend too. As they went

out into the sun-glare, Mesca raised her head and pouted her lips at Maia in a mock kiss.

"Thanks, Maia. That was nice of you and I won't forget it. But now, do tell me why you've come here and what you're doing in Nybril. Two fellows, you said? Lucky old you!"

Maia thought quickly. "Well, yes and no. Funny thing is, neither of them's mine, believe it or not. We-well, we're survivors, really. The fighting's been bad, you know, up in Lapan. We lost everything and a lot of people got killed. I've seen that I couldn't tell you! All same, the three of us got away and managed to get down here."

Mesca gave her another shrewd glance. "Deserters?"

Maia shrugged.

"D'you need money, Maia?"

She shrugged again. "Who doesn't?"

"Have you thought of working for Almynis? You could make a nice little bit-well, just part-time if you wanted- see you through Melekril, wouldn't it? Only like I said, we're out to expand a bit if we can."

"Tell me again where it is," replied Maia. "If I can get away, I'll come out and see your Almynis. P'raps's afternoon."

"Shall I tell her to expect you, then?"

"Yes. Yes, all right, Mesca! But if it's all the same to you, I'll be slipping along now. It's just that I'd rather not let these fellows of mine know-not just for the moment, anyway." She kissed Mesca quickly on the cheek. "You c'n finish what's left in my jug, can't you? Ought I to leave something for Shirgo? Only, I mean, he doesn't know, does he, but what I-?"

"Don't worry; I'll see to that," answered Mesca.

Emerging into the sunshine, Maia almost collided with Anda-Nokomis in the doorway.

"Why, Maia, we've been looking everywhere for you! We couldn't think where you'd got to."

"I only went for a drink, Anda-Nokomis."

"By yourself? In a place like this?"

"Believe me, Anda-Nokomis, it's a lot less dangerous than the upper city. Let's go back to dinner, shall we? P'raps we'll have some better luck later on."

Pleading fatigue and the heat, she had gone to lie down until Zenka and Anda-Nokomis were safely out of the way,

still pursuing their search. She was worrying about what to do with her money and valuables while she went to Almynis's house. Funny, she thought, lying on her bed in the still heat of the afternoon and looking round the bare little room; when she'd set off for the Ortelgan camp by night, she'd carried the lot and never given the matter a thought; and here she was, bothering herself about what to do with them while she paid a visit to a small-town pleasure-house. Weil, she could only suppose that that night the greater danger had driven the lesser one out of her head. That night, she'd reckoned on being killed. She wasn't supposing that she'd be killed at Almynis's, but she did think it was within the bounds of possibility that she might be robbed.

What would Oecula do? She pondered, and suddenly it occurred to her what Oecula probably would do. Having found a couple of inches of unstitched seam along the edge of the mattress, she thrust well into the flock everything except a thousand meld. Three hundred of this she put back into her tunic pocket; the rest, tied up in a towel, she carried downstairs.

The landlord was dozing on a bench. She roused him.

"I'd be very grateful for your help: two things, really."

As usual, it was an advantage to be a pretty girl. He smiled broadly.

"Of course, saiyett."