Maia

"I'm not at all sure-" she stood up, walked slowly across to the window and made some minute adjustment to the louvres "-really-" she returned and sat down again "-whether I ought to allow you to leave this house alive."

"Why ever would that be then, saiyett?" Involuntarily, Maia's voice had risen. "I told you, you've no reason to be revenged on me."

"Perhaps not; but then you know now, don't you, where I'm to be found? And the Leopards would like to learn that."

She wants me to plead for my life. She wants me to go about to convince her there'd be no point in killing me. Reckon I'll have to, an' all.

"But Terebinthia, I'm not going back to Bekla-ever."

"So you say now; but one never knows. And people can still talk, even though they may not actually be in Bekla; and news can travel."

"But everyone reckons Erketlis is sure to beat Kembri and take Bekla."

"Perhaps, Maia, perhaps. And do you think Erketlis is any more likely than Fornis to feel kindly disposed towards Sencho's former saiyett?"

"If you was to kill me, saiyett, that'd be proper bad for you. Bayub-Otal and Zen-Kurel, they both know I'm here,

and so do the folks at 'The White Roses.' But what's more, I'm under the protection of Lord Elleroth of Sarkid. I did him a good turn, see, and only day before yesterday he give us an officer and twenty soldiers to escort us here."

"Oh, it will be an accident, Maia, of course: a most unfortunate accident. You fell in the river. You slipped on the stairs. There'll be witnesses. We shall all be heartbroken." She smiled. "That's why your wine isn't poisoned. You thought it might be, didn't you?"

Somehow, somewhere, Maia could sense the existence of a loophole. A loophole. Terebinthia had some purpose. There was something, something that she was waiting for, hoping to hear. At this moment her threat was half real and half a cruel game. It was up to her victim to tip it one way or the, other. She had to come up with some good reason why the balance of advantage for Terebinthia lay in not stopping her mouth.

"Saiyett" (she couldn't help it now) "there's one thing you're wrong about. I didn't come here to ask you for work, and I don't need your money."

"Really, Maia?" That had caught her attention all right.

"No. My friends and I want to reach Katria by going down the river. That's why we came to Nybril-to buy a boat. But tell you the truth, it's not turning out all that easy."

"Well?"

"Well, Mesca said as you had boats. I come to see whether I could buy one off you."

It was plain that this was something new and unexpected: it had taken Terebinthia by surprise. So Maia was not penniless? There was more to be gained here than the satisfaction of killing her? Terebinthia had always been a great one for money. That was what she lived for.

Her next remark came pat as an echo. "You have money, then?"

"Well, not all that much, but enough to pay a fair price for a boat, I reckon. I haven't got it here, though. It's with my friends in Nybril."

"And what makes you think I'd be likely to part with a boat?"

"The rains are coming, saiyett. I reckon whatever your clients do during Melekril, they don't baste in boats. Turn one of your boats back into money, use that money to

make more and get another boat run down from Yelda in the spring. I'd be doing you a good turn."

"You always were a shrewd little thing, Maia. I had hopes of you once. It's a pity those days are gone."

She was silent, meditating. "You say you're making for Katria?"

"Yes."

"And staying there for good?"

"I'm not coming back, Terebinthia. And I shan't tell anyone that Almynis of Nybril used to be Sencho's saiyett. Why should I? What good would it do me?"

"Well." Terebinthia drummed her fingers lightly on the table. "Well." For the second time she stood up. "We'll go down and look at the boats, Maia, if you like."

The boat-house had a green, watery smell and was full of echoing knocks and wooden scrapings, of the slock of water and bright, elastic reflections shimmering on the under-side of the roof. Maia had not expected so many boats. There were five in all: two rowing boats; a long, rectangular, flat-bottomed affair like a Suban kilyett and two larger, single-masted boats, the masts unstepped and sails furled. The bigger of these was about twenty feet long and had a tiny cabin amidships, most of which was taken up by a big, comfortable-looking feather mattress. The rudder, rowlocks and oars-two pairs-were shipped aboard. There were two bailers, and anchors fore and aft. All in all, thought Maia, as likely a boat as one could well hope to find. She was careful to maintain a straight face and speculative air, but while she was doing so Terebinthia broke in on her pose of deliberation.

"You can take it from me, Maia, that nothing smaller than that boat is going to be any good to you on the lower Zhair-gen. It's either that or drown. Once the rains have set in you'll probably drown anyway, but that's your affair."