Maia (11 page)

They lay together under a single blanket, perspiring, relaxed and easy.

"Occula! Oh, I wouldn't never have thought-"

"Sh!"

"I don't want to go to sleep now."

"I didn' say go to sleep. I said sh!"

"Well, so I will. You talk, then. Tell me who you are-

where you come from. Are they all black, there, like you? Where is it?"

"Head on my shoulder, then; that's right. Well, where shall I start?"

"Where you were born." i

"Where I was born? Ah! do you want to make me cry like you? I've buried that under a great rock, banzi, like Deparioth in the ballad-oh, years past-since I was a lot younger than you are now. Yes, buried-except in dreams. I remember some man tellin' me once that he knew all shearnas had one thing in common; they came from bad homes. But this one didn'." She paused. "Well, what lies out beyond Belishba, banzi, do you know?"

"Belishba? Where's that, then?"

"Where's Belishba? Oh, banzi, my pretty little net-mender, didn' anyone ever teach you pig's arse is pork? Belishba lies out beyond Sarkid-far away. Herl-Belishba must be more than a hundred miles from here; south- oh, yes, a long way south-from Dari-Platesh. But it's not Herl-Belishba I come from, nor nowhere near."

"Where, then?"

"On the furthest southwestern edge of Belishba, far out, the country gets dry and stony, until in the end you come to the desert-the desert the Belishbans call the Harridan. But when I was a little girl I never knew that name, 'cos I was born on the other side-yes, on the other side of the most terrible desert in the world. We called it by its right name, and I still do. It's the Govig. The Govig, banzi-five hundred miles of stony slopes and dry sand. Five hundred miles of nothing-of ghosts and the wind that talks. Five hundred miles of sky and red clouds, and never a drop of water out of them by day or night."

Maia, pleasantly -intrigued and not really distinguishing in her mind between Occula's talk and one of old Drigga's tales, waited for her to go on.

"And then, beyond the Govig again-ah, that's where my home was, banzi; that's where men are men and women have hearts like the sun-honest and decent and nothin' hidden, nothin' but what you can feel shinin' warm all over you."

"What's the country like?" asked Maia.

"Fertile. Flat. The water was slow and brown-it ran in long ditches up and down the fields."

"For the beasts?"

"For rice. But
we
didn' use the fields-my family, I mean. My father was a merchant. We lived in Tedzhek. Silver Tedzhek, they call it, 'cos the river runs round it on three sides. The sand-spits are all silver along the water, and the women wash the clothes there, and twice a year there's a fair on the Long Spit and they act plays in honor of Kantza-Merada. I was three when Zai first took me to the Long Spit. I sat on his shoulders, right up above the crowds of people swayin' like long grass in a field. He was a fine, big man, you see, my father was.

"Zai was a jewel-merchant. And I doan' mean one of those fat, greasy old twisters with a house all bolts and bars and guards with clubs. Zai was a merchant-venturer, and Kantza-Merada only knows where he didn' get to. He'd been to the Great Sea-"

"What's that?"

"Never mind. He'd been there, anyway, and to Sellion-Rabat in the clouds, where the air's so thin that you can hardly breathe until you get used to it, he said; and out beyond the Usakos-that's where he nearly died of frostbite and had to fight his way back through bandits who tried to steal his stock. That's the trouble with jewels, you see; they're so terribly easy to steal. Zai used to disguise himself as a crazy pilgrim, sometimes, or even a drover, complete with bullocks. Once he was a lame beggar, with the jewels hidden in his false wooden leg.

"We never knew when he was goin' to get home again. Sometimes he was away for months and months. Once Ekundayo-that was mother's maid-came and said there was a pedlar at the door sellin' shells and carved toys, and did mother want to see what he'd got or should she send him away. But it was Zai come back: he hadn' let on, for a joke, and Ekundayo hadn' recognized him. But I did. I did!

"Oh, banzi, I could tell you all night, but I'd only be cryin' my eyes out. What's the good? I must have been nine-yes, it was nine-when Zai made his first crossin' of the Govig. I remember mother beggin' him not to try it. No one had ever done it, you see, and no one knew how far it was or what was on the other side. All we knew was that people had died tryin' to cross the Govig-or at any rate they'd never been heard of again.

"But Zai came back-he always came back. He'd taken sixty-two days to cross the Govig and he'd discovered the

Beklan Empire. He'd sold his opals and emeralds and sapphires in Bekla for really big money-more than he'd ever made in his life-even though he'd had to give a lot of it to the High Baron in return for protection. That was Lord Senda-na-Say-him whose stables we were in last night. He had a great house in Bekla, of course, in the upper city, and that was where Zai put himself under his protection. A foreigner on his own's not safe, you see, offerin' jewels for sale. How Zai learned Beklan to begin with I never knew. Our tongue's quite different-well, you've heard me speak it, haven' you? So you know.

"Zai hadn' been back long before he began plannin' to go again. "There's a fortune there, just waitin' to be picked up,' he told mother. 'Now I know what they want to buy and who to go to, I can come back with twice as much. Risk? Yes, of course there's risk. Life's a risk, come to that.' That was Zai all over-I believe he did it for the risk-the sport-not just the money-"

"Strikes me as I know his daughter," whispered Maia.

"Oh, yes? Well, he reckoned one more trip to Bekla would set us all up for the rest of our lives. He planned to take four or five stout lads along with him, then he wouldn' need to buy so much protection-"

"All black people?"

"Of course. In my country, banzi,
you'd
be the queer one. In the real world, proper people are
black:
got it? Only he had the devil's own job findin' them, you see. The Govig-it was a name of terror. He had a job to convince anyone that he'd really crossed it twice, there and back.

"After nearly a year he was ready to go-provisions, stock, stout fellows, everythin'. I was gettin' on for eleven by then. I remember it all so well.

"And then the sickness came to Tedzhek. O Kantza-Merada, didn' they die? No one could bury them all-they threw the bodies out on the spits for the wild dogs and the birds. I wasn' allowed out of the house for weeks on end.

"After two months mother took the sickness. I remember her sayin' to Zai, 'Oh, Baru, the air-how sweet it smells!' He burst into tears. He knew what that meant."

"And she died?" Maia shivered, and drew up the blanket.

"She died. We watched her die. Ekundayo-she died, too. Pray-only pray you never see the sickness, banzi. There was a song-how did it go?" Occula paused a few

moments, then sang, very low, in her own tongue. "Oh, I forget it. It means

" 'My mother sleeps for ever, My father weeps for ever, And still the goddess reaps for ever.'

"When it ended-after six months, it must have been- there was no one left at home but Zai and me. AH the servants who weren' dead had run away. And one night he took me on his knee-we were all alone and I remember the wind blowin' outside-and said he was still goin' to cross the Govig.

" 'It's not the money, 'Cula,' he said. 'What does that matter to me, now? Though it might be some use to you one day, I suppose. But I can' stay here. What's a man to do while he walks under the sun? There's three of my lads left and they'll come, I know. But what am I to do with you, my beautiful girl? Where do you want to live till I come back?'

" 'I'm goin' with you,' I said.

"He laughed. "That you aren't. You'd only die.'

" 'If you doan' take me, Zai,' I said, 'I'll drown myself in the river.'

"And the long and short of it was that he did take me. Everyone said his grief must've turned his wits, to take an eleven-year-old girl into the Govig. And I dare say he
wasn'
himself, come to that. He'd loved mother very deeply, you see, and he was all to pieces-desperate, really. That was why he was determined to go. He felt it was the only thing that could make him forget.

"When we set out I was proud as a pheasant. He'd rigged me out as well as any of the men. I even had my own knife, and he made me learn how to use it, too. 'You never know what might happen,' he said. I was absolutely determined that no one was goin' to be put to extra trouble or hardship on my account. I could keep up all right if I held on to Zai's hand;
and
I carried my own gear. At least it was soft goin'-most of it, anyway-and walkin's like anythin' else-you get better by doin' it. Sometimes Zai carried me on his shoulders for a bit, but no one else ever did. And I could cook and mend, and I could catch insects and lizards. You eat them in the Govig, you see. You eat anythin' you can get.

"We walked by night-always by night. In that heat

there's no movin' by day. We went by the stars. That was one of the tricks Zai had taught himself that no one before him had ever properly understood. Most people doan' take enough trouble. They think they're goin' in one direction, but really they're goin' in circles, so they die. We were goin' east. You picked a star as it rose and then went on it for a little while before pickin' another one risin' from the same place. Whatever star we were goin' on, one or other of us watched it all the time-never took his eyes off it. You might not be able to pick it out again, you see. As soon as daylight began to show at all, Zai used to stop us. We had to make a thorn fire and cook (while we had anythin' left to cook, that was) and then be in shelter before the sun hit us.

"Sometimes there might be natural shelter from the sun- a cave, or a dry cleft-
tibas,
they call them. Sometimes, banzi, we used to hold our water for hours, and then piss on skins, wrap up in them and bury ourselves in the sand. Anythin' to keep moisture in the body.

"That was Zai's other trick-he'd found out how to spot water. There are a few-a very few-holes and wells out there, and those you can spot by the scrub-by the plants; and sometimes by birds. But then-and this was the trick- there are patches of water-or sometimes just patches of moisture-underground: and those you have to tell by insects, or by huntin' with a forked stick in your two hands. That's a kind of witchcraft, though-I can't explain. There were times when we had to scoop up mud and suck it. And I never complained, not once.

"I doan' know how far we went every night. Usually about ten miles, I should guess. The ground-it's soft goin', but it's very difficult and slow. Zai used to mark the days on a notched stick. We crossed the Govig in fifty-five days; quicker than either of his other two crossin's. He'd learned the tricks, you see, and learned the way, too. Some of the places we came to he recognized. And he was always cheerful: he kept us all in heart. I knew he'd get us through. I suffered-oh, yes!-and often I was frightened half crazy- the drums!-but I never once thought really I was goin' to die. Not with Zai there."

"The drums?" said Maia.

"You hear things that aren't real, banzi, and sometimes you even
see
things that aren't real. I've lain petrified with fear and listened to the drums; and not by night, either-

in broad, still daylight. There's a power out there that wants to kill you-doesn' want you to cross the Govig- and we'd challenged that power. It was Kantza-Merada that saved us. I saw her once, walkin' in a great, whirlin' column of sand, taller than the Red Tower in Tedzhek, and that was the most frightenin' thing of all. Only her face was turned away; else we'd all have died, Zai said.

"When we came out of the Govig we were nothin' but skin and bone, and there were only four of us. One of the men, M'Tesu, had been stung by a
kreptoor
in his blanket. You have to shake your blankets, always, and he'd forgotten; just once. That was enough.

"Where we came out, it's hardly twenty miles to Herl-Belishba from the edge of the desert. Zai had friends in Herl-people who'd helped him when he came before. They were timber merchants. We stayed with them until we'd got our strength back, and they gave us clothes, too. They weren't new clothes, but at least they weren't in tatters, like ours. And of course they were the sort of clothes people wear here. Made us look less conspicuous, black or no. Zai promised to pay them in Beklan money on the way back. They trusted him, you see.

"And then we went up to Bekla. It's six days' journey, and half-way you have to cross the Zhairgen on the Renda-Narboi-the Bridge of Islands. The Zhairgen's all of a hundred and fifty yards wide at the Renda-Narboi.

"But when we got to Bekla, banzi, we found the city full of fear-fear and uncertainty. There was civil war. No one knew who the rulers were from one day to the next, and there was no countin' on law and order. That was the Leopard revolution-we'd walked right into the middle of it: Fornis, Kembri and the others; those that set up Du-rakkon.

"Zai went straight to the big house of Senda-na-Say in the upper city, but we never saw Senda-na-Say. They told us he'd gone east, into Tonilda. His steward told us we were welcome to stay in the servants' quarters until things were quieter and Lord Senda-na-Say had time to spare for us. He said things would get better soon; but they never did.

"There was no open fightin' in the city-only murder behind closed doors: and no one knew who was still alive from day to day, let alone who was in power. Zai said it

was the worst possible luck for a trader, and we must just lie low and hope for the best.

"It was Senda-na-Say the Leopards were really after. The queen-the Sacred Queen of Airtha, as they call her- she didn' matter. The Leopards could deal with her later, if only they could kill Senda-na-Say and his people. I didn' understand all that till much later, of course. But I remember the fear-the horrible fear all over the city. When you're a banzi you can often see grown-up men and women clearer 'n they can see themselves."