Maia

"When I stepped out into the grass it was late afternoon by the sun and the day was coolin'. I waded out by a different

way, and as I left the tall weeds and grass and sank down on the turf-oh, banzi, you can' imagine what that felt like! It wasn't just knowin' you were goin' to live; it was havin' left that place behind-I saw the old priest comin'. He stooped and pulled me to my feet as if I'd been a little girl, and then he tookmeinhisarmswithoutaword.

"I didn' say anythin', either-not for-oh, minutes, I suppose. At last I whispered, 'It's done. Shall I go now?'

"At that he released me and stood back, shakin' his head. We sat down together on the short grass in the beautiful, calm evenin' smellin' of dew and tansy. Seemed as though I'd never seen evenin' before, and the swifts wheelin' and screamin' overhead like blessed spirits. I was cryin'. I said, 'Where are the soldiers?'

" 'Gone,' he answered.

" 'And Ashaktis?'

" 'She is dead.'

"I didn' ask him how. It was nice of him to have tidied up for me.

" 'Zuno?'

" 'He shall stay here with you until-'

"And at that, banzi, I interrupted him. It surprises me now: but I interrupted him because I was frightened. 'You mean I'm to be kept here, sir?' I cried. 'You mean to keep me here?'

"He took my hand again.

" 'My child,' he said very gently, 'you have come alive from the Streels of Urtah, like the Lord Deparioth's own mother. In all the years I have served the Streels this has never happened-no, nor yet in my lifetime, so far as I know. Yet even so, if that were the whole of it, you might perhaps go your way, though I should be sorry, for you would die and you deserve better. But there is more. You have been the instrument of those nameless ones who bring retribution upon crimes beyond mercy or forgiveness: upon those whose lives, continuing defile the very earth. My child, you are deodand. Where you have been and what you have performed have taken you beyond the circle of life.'

" 'I know that,' I said.

" 'If you want to come back; if you want your life to continue and not to be forfeit to the gods, you must undergo purification and the ritual of return. To have come alive from the Streels is to be a livin' phantom, until we have done what is needful for you.'

" 'But will my goddess accept your ritual?' I asked. 'My gods are not yours.'

" 'All gods are the same here,' he said. 'I shall invoke her for you, and she will hear. You need have no fear on that score.'

" 'How long-?' I was beginnin', when he added, 'The rains will begin soon. You are welcome to spend Melekril here with us-you and the young man too.'

"And so I did, banzi. I woan' tell you about all the rites and ceremonies and prayers. I couldn', anyway. They're secret, and I've already told you far more than I ought. It was a long business and a lot of sufferin', for the shock had gone far deeper than ever I realized that evenin'. I stayed all through Melekril, and I found more kindness and peace in that place than anywhere in my life since I left Silver Tedzhek. But when the spring came back-the spring before last-I was as fresh and strong as the leaves, and as ready to return as the kynat.

"One fine mornin' we set out together, Zuno and I. We went east to the high road and traveled back to Bekla with one of the iron caravans comin' in from Gelt. It only took four days."

105: MAIA ANSWERS A QUESTION

"Go on," said Maia, as her friend fell silent. Occula's tale had affected her so deeply that she felt almost as though she herself had been carried into that other world of terror, and now also needed help to recover diurnal reality and mundane things. She wanted-she longed desperately- to hear and chat about living people and their affairs and fortunes. And Occula must need that, too. "Tell me about Bekla. Tell me everything that's happened since I left with Zenka and Anda-Nokomis."

Occula caressed and kissed her, smiling. Her happiness at being once more in Maia's company-at being able actually to see and touch her-was evident enough.

"Homesick, eh?" To all appearances she had resumed her old self, her terrible story cast aside like a black cloak from a brightly-colored robe. But certainly Maia-who if not she?-could sense that this was partly acting; never-

theless it was acting which, given the right response, would soon become reality.

"P'raps. Little bit. Go on, Occula!"