Maia (9 page)

"Puhra, isn't it?"

"Yes, about a mile outside Puhra. Ever heard of Senda-na-Say?"

Maia nodded. "He used to be High Baron of Bekla. He's dead, isn't he?"

"He was murdered by the Leopards nearly seven years ago. That out there-" she nodded towards the window- "that's what's left of one of his great houses. They burnt it, and most of his household, too. This used to be the

grooms' quarters, but after the big house was burned, Lal-loc and Mortuga and one or two more of the big slave-dealers in Bekla turned it into a sort of depot. They've got their agents out all over the eastern provinces, you see, and this makes a convenient collectin'-place for slaves being sent up to Bekla.

"The big money's in girls; girls and little boys, that is. As far as I can make out, they're even hotter for girls in Bekla than they are in Thettit, and that's sayin' somethin'. That's why I'm goin' there. Still, there'll be plenty of time later on to tell you about me.

"Now listen, Maia, and try not to get upset any more, because that woan' help you. But
I'll
help you: I'm your big sister. Got it?"

Maia nodded again.

"They're goin' to take us up to Bekla, to this man Lalloc, to be sold for bed-girls. And now I'm goin' to tell you two bits of sense that may very well make all the difference to you. First, a bed-girl's got to be cunnin' and tough, even if she never shows it. Other people have fathers, mothers, families, homes, money, social standin', Cran knows what. We've got
nothin'.
We just have to rely on ourselves. A bed-girl who isn't tough and cunnin', or starts feelin' sorry for herself, just goes down and down until she dies young. And I mean
dies,
banzi! Have you got that?"

Her eyes, brown-irised and slightly bloodshot, gazed earnestly into the younger girl's.

"Yes," whispered Maia faintly.

"Now the second thing is this. People value a girl as she values herself. Behave like a queen and you may even end up by convincin' some of the bastards that you really are one. Never ask a favor or tell them what's really in your heart. Somehow or other, you've got to keep your authority. Never act as if you wanted anyone to feel sorry for you. Do you understand?"

Maia smiled faintly, returning the squeeze of her hand.

"Good," said the black girl. "Now understand:
I'll
stick by you, because I've taken a fancy to you. Aren't you bastin' lucky? Doan' cry in front of those swine out there. Cry when you're alone with me and I'll wipe your eyes. Right?"

"Best's I can," replied Maia, choking back a sob.

"Then you can start bein' tough now, this very minute. We'll wash and dress-is that all you've got, what you've

slept in? I'll make them give you better than that-and go downstairs and eat breakfast as if there was nothin' the matter. But doan' start chatterin' in front of them, d'you see? You've got to keep your dignity, else they'll despise you and start treatin' you
worse
than a slave. How hot's that water? Has it gone cold?"

Maia went over to the pail.

"No; reckon it's about right."

"Then you have it first. Properly, too; head to foot."

Obediently, Maia stripped and stood in the pail, stooping and rinsing. The warm water was refreshing. As once before, a sudden feeling came upon her that the only thing to do was to refrain from thought or deliberation and simply leave her body to carry on.

Looking round, she was startled to see the black girl staring at her with an air of astonishment.

"What's up?" she asked nervously.

"Oh, banzi," whispered Occula, "you're
nice,
aren't you? Turn round: let's have a proper look!" Maia turned and faced her. "Oh, Cran and Airtha, what a figure! You'll be worth a fortune, my girl! Just keep your head screwed on right and doan' make a fool of yourself, and you can' go wrong! This may even turn out to be the best thing that's ever happened to you-a lot better than a hut on the Tonildan Waste, I wouldn't wonder. Stick with me, banzi, and before we're done we'll turn Bekla upside down!"

Occula spent some time in dressing and preparing herself to go downstairs. Maia, despite the misery and anxiety flooding her mind, watched with involuntary fascination as the black girl selected from her chest a Yeldashay-style
metlan
of brilliant orange, over which she belted on a kind of leather hunting-jacket trimmed with scarlet bows. The whole effect, bizarre and incongruous, was nevertheless most arresting, as though the wearer were a kind of incarnation of fantasy and extravaganza, exempt from all normal sartorial conventions.

Looking up from a battered metal mirror as she finished painting a crimson streak along the outer edge of each eye, Occula winked.

"Interestin', aren't I? Start as you mean to go on. Doan' worry, banzi, you'll be gettin' plenty of nice clothes before you're much older; that's one consolation."

Picking up a shining, golden stud, she fitted it into place through the side of one nostril.

"For now, you'll have to wear the dress that bastard ripped, but put my cloak on over the top. No, not like that, banzi: here, let me help you. Cran! What a shame to cover up a pair of deldas like those!"

When the girls came down into the stone-floored kitchen, it was empty except for the old woman, who was sitting by the fire slicing a pile of brillions. By daylight she looked still more sleazy. Even by Maia's standards she was dirty, and had on one cheek a weeping sore. Occula stood looking her up and down without a word, until at length the old woman, plainly annoyed but apparently wary of provoking the black girl, made shift to save her face by looking briefly at the remaining brillions and remarking, "Well, that's enough o' them, I reckon. And I suppose now you want something to eat, miss, is that it, after sending back what Megdon took you up earlier?"

"This place is filthy," said Occula, "and so are you. We'll stick to boiled eggs and fruit, and boiled milk to drink."

"Why, you little bitch," retorted the old woman, "you just wait till they sell you up in Bekla! They'll soon teach you to mind your tongue there, you black-faced tart-"

"You were a tart once," replied Occula calmly. "But you mustn' judge me by yourself, you know. I'm goin' to be much more successful and finish up a lot better off. When I'm your age
I
shan' be crawlin' about in a pile of shit, slicin' brillions for slave-traders."

"Basting hell!" shouted the old woman, rushing at her and swinging back her arm. Occula caught her by the wrist, gripped it for a few moments and then pushed it gently back to her side.

"It's no good, grandma," she said, not unkindly. "Just do as I ask you and let's have no trouble, shall we? Come on, now; eggs, milk and fruit."

"There's no fruit," snapped the old woman, turning away.

"The garden's full of it," said Occula. "Ripe, too. Banzi, go out and pick some, will you?"

"No, she won't!" cried the old woman. "Think we let you little whores go wandering about outside just as you like? D'you know what 'slave' means, miss, eh?"

"You'd better go yourself, then," said Occula. "You used to be a whore-and a slave. I'm goin' to be a shearna- and in the upper city, too."

"D'you think I'm running your errands, miss?" screamed the old woman. "You'll eat what you're given or else go without, you black cow-"

In a flash Occula had snatched up the peeling-knife. At the same moment Megdon, entering the room, reached her in three strides, plucked it out of her hand and threw it into a corner.

"Easy now, Occula," said the slave-trader. "You're getting a lot too handy with knives, you know. What's the row?"

Occula stood impassively beside the table as the old woman began a shrill tirade of explanation and abuse. It was plain, however, that Megdon was only half-listening. At length, shrugging his shoulders, he said, "Well, if she wants some fruit you'd better go and get her some. I'll stay here with them till you come back."

The oldwoman seemed about to argue: then, muttering, she took up a basket and shuffled out of the room.

Megdon turned back to Occula, who had flung back her leather jacket and, her hands behind her on the table, was leaning backwards, her body arched from the hips. As he took a step towards her she said, "Do you want this little girl to watch? Is that what you like?"

"It would be easier to go upstairs, wouldn't it?" answered Megdon. "What are you charging this time, Occula? Too much, if I know anything about it."

"You bugger, I haven' charged you a meld yet," said Occula.

"Not money, no," replied Megdon, never taking his eyes off her. "But a slap-up dinner-and it was slap-up, Occula; you can't say it wasn't-and two bottles of Yeldashay at. the best place between here and Thettit.
And
that gold stud in your nose."

"Which you took off some other poor girl," said Occula. "You're lucky, you know. Six months from now and you woan' be able to get me for five times that. In fact, you woan' be able to get me at all, so you'd better make the most of it while you can."

"Well, for your own sake, I hope you're right, Occula," answered Megdon. "To tell you the truth, I wish we had to handle more girls like you: life would be a lot easier."

"There's no one like me. What's happened to that little bastard I sorted out last night?"

"Gone to Zalamea on a collecting job. Won't be back till tonight. There's only Perdan, and he's still asleep."

"All right; you want to know the price," said Oecula. "I'll tell you. You'll send us on to Hirdo today; me and this banzi here. And you'll fit her out with some decent clothes. And that's all: cheap, isn't it?"

"I can't do it, Oecula," answered Megdon. "I can give the girl a dress; three, if you like. That's easy enough. But I can't send you on to Hirdo today, because there's no one to take you."

"There's you."

"Genshed's bringing five girls on foot from Zalamea. They'll have done fourteen miles. I've no idea what they'll be like. You know how it is: some may be violent, some may even try to kill themselves. Me and Perdan have both got to be here. You'll go up to Hirdo tomorrow, on foot, with the rest of them. You're part of Lalloc's consignment, you see: I can't alter that. Sorry."

To Maia's surprise Oecula made no retort whatever, merely turning away and sitting down on the bench on the opposite side of the table. Megdon, coming round behind her, fondled her shoulders and then, bending his head, murmured, "All right, then, Oecula? Not my fault, you know. Anything else-"

"When I've had some breakfast you can baste yourself silly if you want to," interrupted the black girl. "For now, jus' let me be." And thereupon, the old woman at this moment returning with her basket full of plums and apricots, the talk broke off.

At least the old woman did not stint them. Maia, in spite of everything, made a hearty meal and, as is often the way in trouble, began to feel the better for it. Also, it raised her spirits a little to perceive that Megdon at least seemed to show some consideration in dealing with Oecula and herself. He spoke a few kindly words to her, said he was sorry about Genshed, assured her that nothing of the kind would happen again and told her to ask him for anything she needed.

"Just because I'm a slave-trader you mustn't think I'm a brute," he concluded.

"Who are you foolin'?" asked Oecula. "Besides yourself, I mean?"

"No, honest, I won't let her come to any harm," said Megdon. "Not if she's a friend of yours, Occula. Let her go and choose herself some clothes. Come on, Shirrin," he said to the old woman. "Wash your hands and show her what's in those cupboards down the passage."

If the old woman had shown her any warmth or kindness while they were alone together, no doubt Maia would have given way to more tears. Her surly indifference, however, only went to prove the soundness of Occula's advice. Maia, to the best of her ability, preserved her detachment and said as little as possible. The clothes were fully as good as any she had ever been used to, and anyway she was too much upset to be hard to satisfy. Twenty minutes later she returned to Occula's room, which she found empty.

She had just taken off the scarlet cloak and folded it across the bed when the black girl strolled through the open door, wearing her shift and carrying the rest of her clothes over one arm.

"Just doan' talk to me, banzi," she said, flinging herself prone across the bed. "O Gran, I'm just about ready to throw up! That dirty little stinker-I thought when it came to the big moment I'd get what we want out of him, but did I hell? He's
still
sayin' it can' be done. I've just given him a baste for nothin', that's what it comes to."

"You mean, about going to Hirdo today?" said Maia. Occula made no reply and after a moment Maia asked rather hesitantly. "Why's it so important? I don't want to go to Hirdo-I don't want to go anywhere-'ceptin' home."

Occula rolled over, looking up at her with half-closed eyes and compressed lips.

"D'you think I'm goin' to go trampin' to Hirdo in a slave-gang-three-quarters of them pot-drabs and scullery-girls-very likely chained-and that bastard Perdan in charge, probably with a whip? And who's goin' to carry, this box of mine? D'you suppose I'm goin' to arrive in Bekla in a herd, lookin' like some Deelguy drover's ten-meld bang-bargain? Banzi, you just doan' know what it's all about, do you? We've got to try to arrive at Bekla in
style,
my girl! This blasted man Lalloc's got to feel we're the biggest catch this side of the Telthearna-the sort of girls he can sell into some really wealthy household. You doan' want to be flogged off to some bloody knockin'-shop in the lower city, do you, where you start bad and go right on down? We've got to start four or five rungs up the

ladder, and go up another three before next year. Now doan' interrup' me. Jus' let me think."

She turned on her belly and for some time lay unmoving, her face buried in her arms. Maia went across to the window and resumed her silent contemplation of the overgrown garden. There came back to her the words of an old song her father had sometimes sung.

Would to Cran we were the geese, For they live and die at peace-

She choked back a sob, and in a few moments would have been crying in earnest, had not Occula at that instant suddenly sprung up like a hare from the fern, clapped her hands and cried, "Banzi!" so sharply that Maia jumped.

"This is risky and it may not work," said the black girl, kneeling in front of her chest and rummaging under a jumble of gaudy clothes and brightly-colored knick-knacks, "but we'll try it. Stands to reason a slave-trader's agents in a place like this have got to be bone-stupid. Now, listen, banzi-ah, here it is!-you got to get this right, 'cos we can't do it twice and anyway I've only got one of these bastin' things. A Deelguy from up north gave it to me last year, after I'd made sure he'd really enjoyed himself. I've never seen it used yet, but he said for Gran's sake doan' use it unless you mean business, because it's god-awful. Let's hope it is!"

She handed to Maia a gray-colored object about as big as an apple, the covering of which was a kind of coarse canvas. It was not entirely firm, but gave slightly under the fingers. Maia could feel, inside, a gravel-like sliding and crunching of granules.

"Hide this somewhere under your clothes, where you can get it out quickly," said Occula. "All right? Now: this is Kantza-Merada. Take a good look at her."

Drawing the strings of a cloth bag, she took out of it a figure carved in polished black wood. It was about nine inches high, squat, big-bellied, the conical breasts pointed like weapons, the slit-mouthed face a level, tilted plane broken only by nostrils and by slant, black-pupilled eyes of white bone. Meeting their gaze Maia shuddered, making the sign against evil. Indeed, the figure seemed to manifest overpoweringly something far beyond the mere image of a woman. It was not like a work of art created by the carver from experience and imagination, but rather a kind

of revelation-for those who could endure it-of the true nature of the world; transcendentally malevolent, pitiless and savage.

"Doan' you start thinkin'
this
is Kantza-Merada," said Occula, observing with satisfaction the undisguised fear and horror of the younger girl. "This is only jus' to put anyone in mind of Kantza-Merada, that's all. You ought to be in the Govig at night, banzi, with the sand-wind blowin', and hear the drums beatin' when you know there's no one around for hundreds of miles. That's when you pray to Kantza-Merada-not when you're safe in bed in Thettit. Where I come from, they pray to a
real
goddess; one with power-not to Cran and Airtha. Still, never min' that now. We're goin' back down, and I'm goin' to kick up a real bastin' racket, understand? You keep out of the way, but whatever you do stay close to the fire. Once I start in they'll forget about you. When you hear me call on Kantza-Merada, and not before, put that ball in the fire-only doan' let anyone see you doin' it-and then run straight over to me and act like you're frightened. Go mad-call out "No, no, doan'!"-anythin' you like. And
doan'
get it wrong, see? because everythin' depends on that ball burnin'. If that dirty little Megdon thinks he can baste me for nothin' and get away with it, I'm goin' to hit him with everythin' I've got. Now
doan'
start askin' questions, banzi, or we'll never get to Hirdo tonight. Come on down, and min' you get it right."

Megdon, with a look of satisfied contentment, was drowsing on a bench, while the old woman crouched on the floor, scouring a pot with sharp sand. Occula, who was still wearing nothing but her shift, walked up to her and kicked the pot out of her hands. At the clatter Megdon sat up quickly.

"Baste you!" said the black girl. "I'm goin' to Hirdo- now! Understand?"

"Now don't go too far, Occula!" said Megdon sharply. "Enough's enough! I can have you whipped, d'you realize that? Just you go and pick that pot up, go on!"

Occula spat in her hand and slapped his face. At the same moment the old woman, coming up behind her, grabbed her by the hair. Occula turned quickly, clenched her fist and knocked her down.

"Perdan!" shouted Megdon at the top of his voice. "Per-dan! Here! Quick!"