56: A SECRET VISIT

Lying awake before the birds began to sing, listening to the tiny sounds of darkness and feeling the now-familiar throbbing along her half-healed thigh, Maia considered her next step. Obviously, the chief priest must by now have learned that she had spoken with Sednil and what about. No doubt they had had the hundred meld off him too: that would not surprise her in the least.

The unnatural complexity and imponderable danger of her situation enraged as much as it frightened her.

Why should she be frustrated in a matter which was entirely innocent and natural? Surely to Cran it ought to be understandable—acceptable at face value—that she should want to know the whereabouts of her greatest friend? Yet evidently it was not; and she had now given the suspicious priests something to fasten on and wonder about. Why exactly might the Tonildan girl be so anxious to get in touch with Sencho's black concubine? Simply because she had been fond of her—well, that might perhaps be all there was to it, and then again it might not. Maia, they knew, had herself spent a night with the queen—after which the queen had immediately sent for Occula. She had no idea of the relations between Fornis and the chief priest. To what extent did they confide in each other? Were they united in distrust of Kembri, or did they fear each other? Did the chief priest know anything about Fornis's private pleasures? Would he tell Fornis that she had been inquiring about Occula? If so, what would Fornis do? These inconclusive reflections, in the half-darkness and solitude before dawn, were enough to frighten any girl.

But if she gave up searching for Occula, what self-respect could she have left? It was not only that she herself needed Occula and could not bear the thought of continuing her life without at least finding out what had happened to her. Occula, if she was still alive, might quite possibly stand in need of her help. At the very least she had a duty to the gods and to all the sacred obligations of friendship to discover whether Occula was still alive. But how?

Suddenly there came into her head the recollection of Zuno, bowing at the doorway of the queen's supper-room and finding himself confronted by the girl whom he had compelled to trudge seven miles from Naksh in the heat of the day. Zuno owed his present position to Occula, and if anyone in all Bekla had reason to know that the two of them were bosom friends, it was surely he. "You never know when he might not be able to do us a bit of good," Occula had said. It was like one of old Drigga's tales, she thought. All those weeks ago, in Sencho's house, Occula had, in effect, given her a key to keep and told her that one day she would come upon the door it would open. But Occula—why, yes, just like a tale!—had had no idea that it would turn out to be a door behind which she herself was imprisoned.

Maia, like virtually everyone in the Beklan Empire, thought naturally and unconsciously of the world as a kind of divine machine (rather like the Tamarrik Gate) working in conformity with fixed, recurring accordances, correlations and principles. Some of these were, of course, self-evident—as that unusually large flocks of crows presaged ill-fortune, or that conception was more likely when love was made under the full moon. Others, however, were riddling and enigmatic, their homeopathic connections hard to discern; in some cases impossible without personal revelation through the favor of a god. In the old tales—and they, of course, were plainly the revealed truth of the gods, or why else could they have held good age after age?—no deed or occurrence, however apparently casual or improbable of consequence, was without its unforeseen fruition, good or bad. These, old Drigga had explained, were often ironic jokes on the part of the gods at the expense of mortals who had not the common sense or humility to keep their eyes and ears open to divine tidings. Here, obviously, was a clear instance. The real reason why Occula had been prompted to get Zuno his place was that the gods had known that one day the deed would yield advantage. It followed that Occula must still be alive and that she, Maia, was fated to find her. Greatly comforted by her intelligent arrival at this perception, Maia fell asleep again; and later that morning, after breakfast and a bath, sent Jarvil down to the lower city with a message to the slave-dealer Lalloc that she wished to see him on business as soon as possible.

Whether or not Lalloc was in the city she had no idea. For all she knew, he might be anywhere from Herl to Kabin, buying stock or engaging fresh agents. Logically, however—that was, in accordance with the supernatural design perceived by her—he was bound to be on hand; and so it proved. The slave-dealer, dressed and be-jewelled in the florid style she remembered but now, many eventful months later, saw plainly (as she had not before) to be so tawdry and garish as to proclaim him the cheapest of imitation Leopards, presented himself in her parlor early that evening.

Maia, simply dressed in a gray Yeldashay metlan with crimson sandals and a gold chain at her neck, received him smilingly and with a careful avoidance of any condescension or superiority. The evening being warm and cloudless, she took him out to sit on the miniature terrace overlooking the Barb, where Ogma brought sweet wine, honey cakes and the little, sticky jellies called prions, which came up from Ikat. She had reckoned this sort of thing would probably be to Lalloc's taste and so it evidently proved, for he partook copiously, while giving every sign of feeling that much of the credit for her new standing was attributable to himself.

"Well," he said, after admiring the house and inquiring about her health in a manner so superficial and perfunctory that from any person of breeding it would have been insulting, "so you don't minding doing business, eh, with the man who once soil you?"

"Not in the least, U-Lalloc," answered Maia. "You've never done me any harm as I know of."

"Well, well," said Lalloc, rubbing his hands together so that the rings clicked on his fingers, "I nower harm any of my girls, thot's it. Nower treat anyone bad. Where's the sense; 'cos you nower know where they going to fonnish up, eh? Now you fonnish up queen of Bekla and we're still good friends, isn't it?"

"I'm not the queen of Bekla, U-Lalloc," said Maia quickly. "I'll thank you to remember that, and not use that kind of talk where I'm concerned, either here or anywhere else. I don't reckon as Queen Fornis'd like it, do you?"

"No, no, of course, jost my joke," replied the slave-dealer, putting his feet up on a stool and helping himself to another handful of prions. "But oil the same, now you're big, important lady—most important ower come from me, I toll you—"

Maia cut him short. "U-Lalloc, I need another good, reliable girl in the house—someone strong, but young enough to be ready to do what Ogma tells her; and I need a man as can help the porter, too."

"Ah, no trobble, säiyett. There's plonty coming in jost now, this time of year. Perhaps you like to comming down tomorrow, see as monny what you like. Or I bring one or two up here—whatever you like. How moch you want to spend, säiyett? Woll, I jost bring up the best, thot's it, eh?"

They talked on for a time, Maia half-serious and asking such questions as occurred to her; for after all, she might in all earnest enlarge her establishment—she could well afford it.

"Well, that's quite satisfactory, U-Lalloc," she said at length, standing up and leaning over the balustrade.

"I'll think it over—what you've told me—and let you know. I'm obliged to you for coming up here so promptly. By the way, how's that young man of yours as brought me and my friend up from Hirdo last year? Is he still with you?"

It would be better, she had decided, not to reveal to Lalloc that she knew what had become of Zuno.

The less that people—especially people like him—thought she knew about Fornis's household the better.

Lalloc began telling her effusively—again, one would have supposed that it reflected credit upon himself—about Zuno's advancement to the post of personal steward to the Sacred Queen, contriving to suggest that the position was that of a state official rather than a servant. Having let him talk on for a time she said, "Well, I'm sorry he's left your service, U-Lalloc, 'cause now things are going so well with me, I'd have liked to meet him again. He was—" it cost her an effort, but she got it out—"he was good to us on the way up to Bekla, and I'd have liked to give him a little token of esteem."

"Well, that's kind of dofficult, säiyett," replied Lalloc.

"The Sacred Queen—she keep her personal household very private, yoss, yoss."

"Still, I suppose you might sometimes have occasion to go there, U-Lalloc, on business—"

"Ollways when I'm going it's at night, säiyett—"

Yes, thought Maia, with those poor little boys, I'll bet. I wonder how many she's got through in seven years? She said casually, "Well, I s'pose at that rate you can go there without anyone being all that much surprised to see you. So I could just go along with you and see Zuno, couldn't I? No one else need know it's me, of course, 'ceptin' Zuno himself."

Before he could answer she went on, "I'll have to leave you now, U-Lalloc, just for a minute or two: I'll be back directly. While I'm gone you can be having a look at this pretty little carved box. You'll appreciate the workmanship. It's from Sarkid, or so I was told."

She had put eight hundred meld in the box. Probably twice as much as she need have, she thought irritably, taking care to make plenty of noise over going upstairs and calling to Ogma. But hadn't Occula herself once advised, "Always bribe too much, banzi: the gaols are full of people who've offered too little."

The moment she came back to the terrace and before he could speak, she said "Please keep the box, U-Lalloc, as a gift from me. As to the other matter we were talking about, I'll meet you on the shore—just down there, see?— tomorrow night, about an hour after sunset. No one will be able to recognize me, don't worry. I'm sorry I can't stay any longer now." And with this, turning away, she called, "Ogma, will you please show U-Lalloc to the gate and tell Jarvil to get him a jekzha?"

Cran and Airtha! she thought; what have I done? The chief priest knows I've been questioning Sednil; and now this man can say I bribed him to get into the queen's house and see Zuno. What if it all gets back to the queen? Ah, no, but it's fated, else the gods wouldn't have put Zuno there in the first place.

Come to think of it, it'd probably be a deal more dangerous to disregard a favor like that from the gods.

There was no moon and only the lightest of breezes stirred the surface of the Barb lapping against its grassy banks in the dark. The night was so still that Maia, pacing back and forth among the flowering shrubs and clumps of lilies, could hear the faint plashing of the Monju outfall, almost a furlong away beyond the trees. Already—or so it seemed—she had been waiting much longer than she had expected. Perhaps something had happened to prevent the slave-dealer from keeping their appointment? Well, but in that case would he not at least have let Ogma know as much?

The stars were clear, yet Maia, in the solitude, was suddenly overcome by foreboding and dread. Not far away shone the lamps of other houses; the houses of the wealthy, the powerful—yes, and the cunning and ruthless. There came back to her the memory of how once, when she was a little girl delirious with fever, she had lain and watched the walls of the hut ripple, melt and dissolve into smiles— expanses of horrible, silent smiles, merging and reopening until she could bear it no longer and started up in screaming terror. "The heroine of the empire" Durakkon had called her, himself placing round her neck those diamonds, worth more than all the money her father and mother had ever made in their lives. And the retinue of courtiers and officers attending him—oh, how they had smiled and smiled!

Zenka, she thought; Zenka who had made her laugh with delight like a child at a fair, who had taken her with him—the only man who ever had—into a world of joyous, mutual understanding, his love-making the natural expression of his feeling, his delight in her company and his longing to please and protect her.

What would she not give to have him standing beside her now and to feel his arm round her waist? O Lespa! she thought, if only I knew Occula was safe, I'd set out barefoot for the Valderra tomorrow and find him, wherever he is. And Nasada—if only I could just find that good old, straight-talking Na-sada, he'd know what to do! Ah, to have to go all the way to the Suban marshes to find a man you can trust to tell you the truth!

She heard the sound of a cough, and turned quickly to recognize the bulky outline of the slave-dealer in the dark.

"U-Lalloc?"

"Oh, yoss, little säiyett, you think I'm not comming? No, I wouldn't let onnything going wrong, you don't hov to worry!"

His voice held a kind of jocular, conspiratorial familiarity which she found unpleasant. This was the kind of company, she thought bitterly, which she was now compelled to seek, simply to gain the innocent end of finding her Occula. She wondered how often he arranged clandestine matters of one kind or another in return for money. What grimy tunnel was this along which she was being obliged to creep towards her friend; and to what extent had she put herself in this man's power? Well, either I'll soon have an old head on young shoulders, she thought, or else no head at all.

She still had little idea whereabouts, among the lawns and gardens of the upper city, the Sacred Queen's house might lie. She had last come to it in a state of sleepless exhaustion, and when leaving next day had been in no mood to look about her. She was surprised, therefore, after they had been walking for what seemed less than a quarter of an hour—during which they had met very few passers-by—when the slave-dealer, stopping at the corner of a walled lane, turned to her.

"You put this cloak on now—pull up the hood, yoss, thot's right. You're a girl I'm bringing to soil—no one to see, I'm saying only Zuno ask I bring you for the queen, all right? Then later you're not there, the rest jost think you don't suit, thot's it."

After a minute or two, as she walked on beside him up the lane, he suddenly said, "Genshed; this man in Puhra; he treat you bad?"

Maia stiffened. To her the night when she had cowered from Genshed's knife, to be rescued by Occula in the nick of time, was like something from a vanished world—a world which, thankfully, she would never know again. She had no least wish to make Lalloc a confidant of that mem-ory.

The slave-dealer, however, apparently had his own reasons for persisting. "Occula say he treat you bad. She toll Zuno now she's good friends with the queen, she's gotting him killed."

"So she is alive? She's alive? U-Lalloc, Occula's alive? That's what you're saying? She's alive?"

"Well, you toll her I sond Genshed away. I don't like what he did to you, it's right against all the rules. Still, I don't like he's killed, because thot maybe makes it harder gotting other men for the work, you know? But you toll her he's gone all right: he's gone so he don't be gotting killed."

She plucked his sleeve. "So she is alive?"

But now they were coming under an arch at the far end of the lane, into a courtyard surrounded by doorways and lit by three or four smoky torches stuck in brackets round the walls. A rotten-sweet smell of garbage, pebbly cobbles underfoot, a distant clatter of dishes, a puff of steam from an open window, a woman's sudden, impatient cry broken short. Yes, this must be their destination all right; the back-quarters of a wealthy house; and little enough it seemed to have in common with the palace to which Ashaktis had brought her that morning in early spring.

Lalloc stopped again. "Now; you jost simple country girl. You don't know onnything what's hoppening.You put the hood found your face, look down at the ground, thot's right." 

He went over to one of the doors and knocked. She followed, eyes on the ground. The grinding of a key in the lock, the rattle of a bolt. "You toll Zuno I come like he's saying. Confidential business."

Still looking down, she let herself be led through the door, up three or four steps and into a small, stone-floored room smelling of oil, corn and sacking. They waited in silence, and she could once more hear from a distance the sounds of the kitchen and scullery. Then the door opened and Zuno's voice said, "U-Lalloc! A most pleasant—ah— surprise. I don't remember that we had any arrangement tonight, but if I can be of any help to you, sir—"

Overcome by a sudden determination to get on with it and be damned, Maia flung back the hood and raised her head to face Zuno. Elegant as ever, not a hair out of place, his livery gleaming in the lamplight, he looked at her blankly for a moment before his eyes widened with surprise.

"Maia!"

She lost no time. "Zuno, I've come to see Occula. I've come because she's my dearest friend and for no other reason at all. Will you help me?"

She had expected him to prevaricate, to demur, perhaps to need bribing, but to her surprise he showed no least hesitation.

"What you're asking is dangerous, not only for you and Occula but for me too. But I will do it. Fortunately the queen is at Lord Durakkon's tonight. Half an hour, säiyett, and no more, you understand? Come with me."

Hooded once more, she followed him through the door, up a flight of stairs, along a corridor, up another flight. Suddenly she knew where they were. This was the upper gallery where she had walked with Form's, had taken her in her arms and kissed her. And this—ah, this was the door of the very room in which she had woken and whence Ashaktis had taken her to the bath.

They entered. The room was unchanged, quiet and luxurious, its spacious length dim in the lamplight. A moth which had flown into one of the lamps lay struggling and crawling on the floor.

Occula, dressed in a long, dark-red robe embroidered with gold flowers, was lying on the bed. Her eyes were closed, their silvered lids, which matched the lacquer on her finger-and toe-nails, glittering faintly in the soft light. As Zuno tapped gently on the tiles with his staff she opened her eyes, sat up quickly and looked round at them.

"Banzi!"

Falling on her knees beside the bed, Maia flung her arms round Occula and pressed her face against her shoulder. For long moments she was aware only of Occula's flesh against her cheek; the singular, just-perceptibly granular quality, as of some fine fabric; the remembered smell, sharp and light, like clean coal. As though she were an infant or an animal, these sensations filled her entirely, mindlessly; self-sufficient, comforting and reassuring. Occula, too, was clearly beyond speaking, only rocking her gently to and fro and uttering soft, wordless murmurs of endearment. When at length they released each other, Zuno had gone and the door was closed.

"Is he—he won't—you trust him?" faltered Maia, her fear and anxiety returning once more, inescapable as flies.

Occula only nodded abstractedly, holding her at arm's length by the shoulders and looking at her as though hardly believing in her real presence. Then, with a quick smile, she said "Doan" worry, he's a better lad than you might suppose, banzi. We hold each other up. Oh, Kantza-Mer-ada be thanked for the sight of you! I tried to send you a message—oh, weeks ago. Did you ever get it?"

Maia shook her head.

"Bastards!" said Occula. "Anyway, you're here now. Come on, take that cloak off; lie down and make yourself comfortable. Cran and Airtha, look at your thigh! What was that? The Valderra?"

"Ah."

"Tell me everythin': I've only heard what they've all been sayin'. I doan' even know how you got into Suba. I suppose Kembri fixed it somehow, did he? But then how the hell did you—"

Maia interrupted her. "No, no, all that'll have to wait, darling. There's so little time. You don't have to worry about me: I'm the one as has to worry 'bout you. Are you safe here, Occula? Only I know I'm the one as got you here: I spoke to the queen, see, 'cos I knew I had to get you out of the temple somehow. Only I've been wondering ever since—"

She stopped, for Occula was staring at her open-mouthed.

"So it was you, banzi! You did it! The rotten bitch, why didn' she ever tell me! And why to Cran didn' I ever think of it for myself? Oh, my precious banzi—"

Only once or twice before had Maia seen her so much softened, so stripped by emotion of her normal air of tough self-possession.

"But how did you get the chance, banzi! Who did you speak to?"

Maia told her of her first sight of Fornis on the night of the murder, of the queen's caprice which had briefly taken her out of Kembri's hands, and of what had followed.

"So you didn' fancy it?" asked the black girl, when she had finished.

"No, I didn't," answered Maia. "Nor I couldn't do it, neither—what she wanted. She soon enough got that all right."

"I doan' blame you," said her friend. Suddenly she threw back her head and laughed like the old, undauntable Occula, the canny girl on the way up. "But you reckoned I could, did you?"

Maia hesitated, then laughed too. "Well, I s'pose I reckoned you was a bit more professional, like."

For a moment Occula ground her teeth and her lip curled. "Oh, banzi, how right you were! Yes, I can do it all right. I give every bastin' satisfaction! This year's great success, you might say. My only problem is not to get a little too enthusiastic, you know? That'd be one way to finish my dirty work, wouldn' it? The most expensive way, and you might say what's expense, when it's for the peace of Zai's soul and the honor of our family? But banzi, I mean to get what I want cheaper than that, believe you me. I'm going to walk up out of the underworld on my two feet, like Kantza-Merada, you wait and see if I doan'."

As Maia, only half-comprehending, looked into the familiar, dark, slightly bloodshot eyes under their silvered lids, she added, "Of course you know everythin' now, doan' you? Pretty well everythin', anyway."

"You mean, what you did—that night—-Sencho—"

"Of course."

"Yes, I think so. But Occula, was it planned—well, right from the start? From the Lily Pool?"

"Never you mind about the Lily Pool, banzi. That's neither here nor there. Less you know, less risk you run, right?"

"But you couldn't have known we were going to be sold to Sencho—"

"No, I didn'," replied Occula. "Unless there's somethin' I doan' know about, that was just a bit of luck. Lalloc's no heldro, you can be sure of that: he sold us to Sencho in the way of business. Still—" she grinned—"it wasn' entirely unlikely, was it? Couple of nice girls like us, and old Piggy's well-known tastes."

"But you knew about Zirek, the pedlar?"

"Not a thing, until he started talkin' about Cat Colonna. But after that, of course, and once word had got back where we'd landed up, banzi—"

"Got back? To whom?"

"Why, toUantil, of course."

Maia, lying in her friend's arms, was silent, reflecting. A great many things were becoming clear in retrospect. At last she said, "So it was Meris with Zirek that day, by the Peacock Gate."

She felt Occula nod, and went on, "Where's the two of them got to now, then?"

"I doan' know," said the black girl grimly. "I only hope they're better off than I am, that's all. But I've got another job to do, banzi, you see, before Zai's soul’ll be at peace. Why d'you think I stayed in the boat when I could have bunked with them? I've not finished yet—-not finished the goddess's work."

The next instant she had burst out laughing, rolling over on her back and tugging at Maia's dress. "Come on, sweetheart, let's have a look at you! That Ashaktis woman told me you'd been ripped from head to foot in the Valderra. Were you?" She pulled the dress over Maia's head, followed by her shift. "Oh, Shakkarn, not a bit of it! Just one or two nice, honorable scars, enough to make a few jolly lads want to kiss 'em better, eh? That's my banzi! What you goin' to be, now you're back? Remember what we used to say at old Piggy's—thousand meld a bounce!"

"I know: but somehow I just don't fancy it, Occula. Anyway I don't need money—not at the moment, any road."

"Doan' talk so wet-headed, banzi. A girl can always do with twice the money she's got: firs' law of the universe. Think of your old age."

"Well, 'tain't just exactly that—" Maia, halfway through dressing again, hesitated. She longed to pour out to Occula the whole story of Suba, to tell her of Zen-Kurel and ask her advice. But was there time?

Soon Zuno would return: soon she must be gone.

"No, why the hell should you?" said Occula unexpectedly. "You saved the city, didn' you? Why not stick to your dancin'—for a bit, anyway? You can well afford to."

"But Occula, dearest, how can you be so pleased that I saved the city? If only Karnat had got here—"

"Karnat, banzi? No, 'course we doan' want Karnat takin' Bekla. Santit's goin' to take Bekla—Santil and no one else."

"But what's it to you either way? You're not Beklan."

"No, no. But you know me, banzi; girl on the make— always was. Karnat—I doan' know Karnat an' he doesn' know me. But Santil—I'm one of his most successful agents, aren' I? If only I'm still alive when Santil takes Bekla, he might give me a nice, big piece of thrilsa for helpin' him, doan' you think? A bigger piece than ever Karnat would. Or a pottery cat, even. Pottery cat? Oh, Cran, I almost forgot! Banzi, can you do somethin'; without fail? I was goin' to try and do it some other way, but now you're here it seems providential. Tell me, d'you often go into the lower city?"

"No, not often, but I can do."

"Do you remember the old woman in the sweet-shop, that day you were with Eud-Ecachlon? Well, go down there and tell her to clear out; now, at once! Tell her I said to get out like shit from a goose, right? This last lot of arrests in Tonilda—oh, never mind. But you must do it tomorrow, banzi! Promise me!"

"But the people, Occula! They always crowd me so. Couldn't I send Ogma? She's with me in my house now, you know."

"Ogma's not the girl to let in on a thing like this: it wouldn' be safe. But if it's not done before this time tomorrow, it'll be too late. It was only the purest stroke of luck I found out myself. Fornis doesn' always keep her mouth shut, thank Cran: 'specially when she's enjoyin' the prospect of a little cruelty. It's not just her life—the-old woman's, I mean—it's a hell of a lot of other people's, too, believe me."

"I'll do it, darling," said Maia.

There was a tap at the door and Zuno returned.

"Precious banzi," said Occula, embracing her, "come again if you can—it's like a drink of water in the desert-but be very careful. Zuno'll let you know when it's safe—" she turned to him—"woan' you?"

"Yes, I will," he said. "But now she must go, and quickly too. The queen's due back any minute."

They reached the foot of the stairs—Maia once more wrapped in the hooded cloak—to find Lalloc chatting with a gray-haired, elderly woman in the stone-floored store-room.

"You may take this—ah—young woman back with you, U-Lalloc," said Zuno. "I've talked with her, and I'm afraid she wouldn't do for the Sacred Queen."

"Some people don't know when they're lucky," said the old woman drily. She stood up, selected a key from her belt and unlocked the door into the courtyard.